


Growth Mindset

by mintycarrots



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma Friendship, Akaashi Keiji is a Mess, Akaashi Keiji-centric, Flirty Miya Osamu, Fluff, Food, Friendship, Getting Together, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, M/M, Onigiri Miya, Post-Time Skip, akaashi eats so much onigiri it's not healthy, as a result Flirty Akaashi Keiji, minor breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintycarrots/pseuds/mintycarrots
Summary: Akaashi Keiji was many things, he could be described as patient, cordial, and intelligent, among other things.However, Keiji couldn’t find it in himself to be patient, cordial, or intelligent when his neighbor seemed to get home at ungodly hours, get up at ungodly hours, and spend the time he was home yelling at the tv.But that's how it starts.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & MSBY Black Jackals, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Osamu & MSBY Black Jackals
Comments: 18
Kudos: 226





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Miya Osamu opened up a branch of Onigiri Miya in Tokyo before Hinata's debut game, okay?

Akaashi Keiji was many things, he could be described as patient, cordial, and intelligent, among other things. 

However, Keiji couldn’t find it in himself to be patient, cordial, _or_ intelligent when his neighbor seemed to get home at ungodly hours, get up at ungodly hours, and spend the time he was home yelling at the tv. 

He rarely ever caught a glimpse of said neighbor, only a flash of grey hair and large figure, sometimes attached at the lips to a brunette as they stumbled into his apartment, lewd noises spilling out into the hallway.

When the unnamed neighbor began screaming at his tv when the clock hit 2, Keiji was only a _bit_ fed up whilst running on 2 hours of sleep over 40.

So the most logical solution his patient, cordial, intelligent brain could come up with, was to track down where said neighbor was currently residing, and throw things at the wall until they shut up. 

It turned out to do the job perfectly while also serving as a stress reliever, and Keiji took advantage of the short break of silence to collapse onto his bed, wincing at the loud thump as it banged towards the wall from his momentum. 

When he awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming, followed by a loud thump on his own. Keiji blinked for a second and winced, eyes stinging. 

He forgot to take out his contacts. Of course. 

Throwing off his covers, Keiji quickly pulled the dried contacts from his eyes and grimaced, tossing them into the trash. He stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face.

He glanced toward the clock- 6:00. It elicited a low groan and he began to run his hands through his hair. 

“Right… great. Why am I awake again?” he mumbled to himself. Right. The door. 

Keiji padded to the front of his apartment, kicking the shoes he had discarded last night towards the entrance, and pulled open the door. There was no one there. Instead, a sticky note fluttered to the ground. 

He bent down the pick it up and closed the door behind him. 

A message written in black glitter ink stared back at him: _hey neighbor, if youre gonna have sex pls be more quiet about it next time._

Confusion washed over Keiji as he reread the message several times, eyesight hindered by the lack of glasses and _horrified_ at the lack of proper punctuation and spelling (blame the editor side of him). A blush soon set his face aflame. 

“I… I was _not_ having sex,” he hissed as he tore through his kitchen in search of a notepad. The only ones that were unearthed from his drawers was a pad of heart shaped post-its Bokuto had gifted him upon moving into his apartment. 

It would have to do.

Pens were easy to find- they were scattered everywhere from the mess that made up Keiji’s apartment. Normally, it would be neat and orderly, if it weren’t for his long hours at the office rapidly flipping through pages to meet their deadline. Luckily, Udai had pulled through in the end and they had been able to turn in the new chapters for Zomb’ish. 

_That was not sex you heard, I was merely trying to stop the passionate rant about chopping v slicing v dicing bell peppers- my apologies._

_Neighbor_

-

Working overtime often meant getting home to collapse in bed and tumbling out of it in the mornings in an attempt to beat the clock. This meant that most days, Keiji was left to convenience store food as a means to survive, but today he decided to venture out. 

Generally, following his nose would be a good idea, but it was no longer 10 pm, and the streets were crowded. Instead, Keiji ducked into the first relatively empty restaurant he found after wandering 4 blocks away.

 _Onigiri Miya._ Excellent, convenience store onigiri sucked. It sounded vaguely familiar, had he ventured here before? 

He opened the door, triggering the bell placed above it, and was treated to screeching behind the counter.

“ _SAMU!_ What the hell! Where the fuck is my-”

“Shut up! Don’t fuckin’ blame me for yer mess!”

“But _you_ took it! I’m gonna be _late_ if ya don’t ‘fess up!”

“I’m working- when the hell could I have taken yer shit?! Speaking of- get out! I’m _working!_ Yer gonna scare everyone away!”

He hovered, shocked for a moment. That was true, Keiji was about two seconds from turning back around and walking out of the store. The squabbling pair seemed to be carbon copies of each other, save for their hair colors, one an ugly yellow and the other a dusty grey with the roots growing out.

A familiar shade of grey, and it had Keiji pausing for a moment. Where had he seen that color before?

Ah. So _this_ is what his neighbor did. Bicker with his brother (?) while supposedly manning a restaurant. 

Keiji watched in quiet fascination as everyone seated at the tables continued chatting and eating, as if they were regulars and this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

The argument seemed to die down as the mustard head threw up his hands- was that Atsumu? Keiji took a step back and reassessed the scene. 

_Oh._ Onigiri Miya, Miya Atsumu. It was the vendor at Black Jackals’ games. 

“Fine! Run yer damn shop, I need to go,” he jumped over the counter and Keiji sidestepped him as he stormed toward the door. “Hey Keiji-kun, you should drop by our game, Bokkun won’t shut up about you. I hate you, Osamu!” 

“Fuckin’ hell- it takes 7 steps to walk around the counter, ya dipshit!”

Keiji blinked, bewildered, had he noticed him and just paid him no mind? He turned slowly and met the other brother’s scowl, which quickly turned into a neutral expression as he spotted the editor. 

“Hey there, welcome to Onigiri Miya… sorry ya had to see that, ‘Tsumu is a pain in the ass, I swear he doesn’t skulk around here all the time. What can I get you?”

The switch threw him a bit off guard, but Keiji took it all in stride and quickly ordered. The man looked down and tapped on the register. 

“Takeout or dine in?”

“Takeout, please.”

He nodded and quickly wiped down his area, scooping a ball of rice out onto the surface, “So you know Atsumu, huh?”

“We’ve met once or twice,” Keiji took his concentration on the rice in front of him as a chance to observe his neighbor, having never had a proper conversation before. 

Bokuto would call it his ‘freaky telekinesis powers’ and then Keiji would respond with ‘no, Bokuto-san, it’s telepathy, not telekinesis’, but in his opinion, it was just getting a judge of character. He thought he was quite good at it, though nowhere near someone like Kenma’s level, he could generally read actions and expressions quite well.

Bokuto would then adjust to calling it Keiji’s ‘freaky detective skills.’ He smiled at the thought.

“I think I’ve seen you around before. Correct me if I’m wrong… Fukurodani?”

He laughed lightly, “Yes, that was me. Inarizaki, right? Class of ‘14?”

“Yeah, you were captain, weren't you? Congrats on winning the tourney.”

“Thank you,” Keiji paused. Here was where he could take a gamble, “You guys were tough at Nationals.” 

“So were you.” No bitter feelings or lingering resentment, but his hands worked quickly as he wrapped seaweed around the rice ball. “It’s a shame we couldn’t play again, would’a loved to get revenge for that nasty dump.”

“Maybe someday,” they both knew that wasn’t happening, “What made you move to Tokyo? You were from Hyogo Prefecture, correct?”

“Yup. I’ve got a restaurant in Osaka too, just opened up here. My apartment’s only signed for 3 months so I’ll be headin’ back before September.”

“Mm. Are you following MSBY next season?” 

“Yup, it’ll be a pain travelling everywhere. Here ya go, three umeboshi onigiri with a side of pickles.” 

“Thank you, I will see you later, Myaa-sam,” Keiji departed with a slight smile and a wave. The heat hit the editor right as he stepped outside, and Keiji mourned the decision to eat at the office. 

-

“Fukurodani setter?” 

Keiji took the stairs two at a time, cursing the broken elevator forcing him to take _stairs_ while the heat persisted (even when the sun had already set hours ago- what the hell?).

He turned around once more and a pen slipped out of his bag. Someone huffed and darted forward, snatching the pen and shoving it in Keiji’s face. He straightened and accepted it with a thanks. 

“Fukurodani setter.” Oh. That was supposed to be him. “What’re ya doing here?” 

Keiji stared at Miya for a moment before speaking, “I’m your neighbor, Myaa-sam.” 

He watched several emotions flicker through the other’s face, confusion, to surprise, to contemplation. 

“Oh. Are you the one who put the note on my door?” 

“That would be me, yes.” 

“Ah, am I that much of a shitty neighbor?" he chuckled, "Sorry, got a bit too caught up watchin' MasterChef."

His lips quirked up, “That would explain it. I’ll be going now, bye.” Keiji turned right towards his flat before pausing, one hand on the door. “Myaa-sam, if you’re being considerate, please refrain from making out with your boyfriend in the hallways.” 

Keiji stepped into his home, inhaled the strong scent of tea and immediately covered his face, letting out a quiet scream. 

“ _Why_ did I just say that,” he hissed, slipping off his shoes. Why couldn’t he just walk in without saying anything weird. Why couldn’t he just leave it there.

With a kettle on the stove and a tin of white tea on the counter, Keiji left the water to boil as he fished his tablet out of his bag and quickly drafted an email to his mangaka. 

_Udai-san,_

_I did not see you in the office today. Please remember that outside of gathering references, part of your job is to draw. Have a good day._

_Your editor,_

_Akaashi Keiji_

He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A cup of tea, and then bed. As the kettle started whistling, Keiji reached out with a hand and flipped off the stove, digging for his strainer with his other hand. 

Wait. Strainer, tea leaves, water. The routine was familiar, and he could feel himself relaxing before he even took a sip. Keiji spooned in some sugar and gently stirred, watching steam rise out of his mug. 

It was times like these he relished- absolute quiet. The offices were the exact opposite, near chaos even when they were tucked away in a corner, and even then Udai tended to mutter to himself as he sketched. The apartments were always lively, located next to a college, students spilling into their complex. 

Keiji took in a deep breath and finally brought the cup to his lips.

-

A loud thump in the wall penetrated Keiji’s bubble, making him jump about a foot in the air. He glanced around- luckily, someone wasn’t trying to break in, were they- but an obscene moan soon sounded, barely muffled by the wall separating the apartments.

He cringed. 

After trying (and failing spectacularly) to tune out the noises in favor of cleaning his apartment, Keiji gave up and lunged for his phone when a long string of expletives sounded- this is _not_ what he wanted to spend his free day doing.

Me

_Bokuto-san, are you free right now?_

Sent 12:21

Luckily, the response was almost immediate.

Bokuto

_Hey hey akaashi!! Yes!! Were staying for like 2 more days i think??? Not sure tho_

_Do you wanna get lunch?_

Sent 12:21

Me

_I was just about to ask_

_Meet up in half an hour? There’s a new sushi place near the old yakiniku one you loved_

Sent 12:23

Bokuto

_Correction still love_

_Sure!_

_Atsumu’s reading over my shoulder rn you mind if he comes too?_

_And hinata_

Sent 12:25

Me

_That’s fine, any chance of Sakusa-kun tagging along too?_

Sent 12:26

Bokuto

_Let me ask_

_Its a no_

Sent 12:26  
  


He left his phone on his bed and ventured toward his closet, grimacing at the small pile of clothes that had accumulated in his hamper. He could bring that down on the way out. 

Keiji winced at another loud moan and quickly rifled through the clothes hangers, was his bedroom _right up against his??_

Most likely.

This was just a casual lunch- a dark flannel with the thinnest jeans he owned (it was still summer, after all), and he decided to indulge just this once- a loose white crop top. 

He changed as fast as humanly possible, the sounds came more frequently, gathered his laundry, and bolted. 

Keiji didn’t make a habit of running away some things, but some situations, such as neighbors having very very loud sex, called for it, and he could only hope that he retained some sort of dignity- though his experience seemed to show on his face.

“What happened to you?” Atsumu sniggered at the sight of him.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto waved madly upon seeing him, bounding down the sidewalk to greet Keiji. The editor was acquainted once more with Bokuto’s muscles. A misplaced thump on the back had him gasping for air and he quickly tapped the spiker on the shoulder.

“Bokkun,” Atsumu laughed, “I think Keiji-kun’s suffocating.” 

“Oops! Sorry, Akaashi! I haven’t seen you in so long,” Bokuto grinned as Keiji smiled back weakly. Shouyou quickly replaced Bokuto, though his hug was much gentler. Atsumu opted for a nod of the head as a greeting. Keiji adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. “You look great!”

“Yeah!!” Shouyou chirped.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san, Shouyou-kun,” his hands automatically came up to play with the hem of his shirt, “I’m quite hungry, could we get going?” 

“So, why’re you having lunch with us?” Bokuto asked through a mouthful of rice, “Not that we don’t want you!! Just, you always plan like 2 weeks in advance.”

“Oh, ah,” Keiji coughed, “Myaa-sam and his boyfriend are quite… _active._ ”

At this, Atsumu broke out into raucous laughter, “HA! They’re the absolute _worst_ when it comes to PDA, I’m pretty sure Sunarin _wants_ you to know they’re fucking.” 

“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto gasped, clasping his hands over Shouyou’s ears, “There are children present!” 

“Sorry, Bokkun.” 

“Bokuto-san, Shouyou is 22, not 12,” Keiji tried his best to keep his face blank, “I’m sure he knows what sex is.” 

“Yeah, Bokuto-san! Akaashi-san is right, I’ve had sex before!” 

All of them immediately cringed at the thought. Hinata Shouyou? Sex? No. Unacceptable. They quickly changed the topic.

.

“Wait,” Atsumu brought up as Bokuto loudly argued that he would be the one paying, “Keiji-kun, are you neighbors with ‘Samu?”

Keiji stared at him. “Yes, Atsumu, I’m neighbors with your brother.”

“Ya don’t gotta say it like that!” he huffed, “D’you mind if I walk you back? I want to pay Osamu a visit, maybe fuck up his place a little.” 

He thought about it. “How long do Myaa-sam and Suna-san usually go for?” Which received a lot of sputtering and flushing on Atsumu’s end. 

“Gah- don’t just ask me that sort of stuff, Keiji!” Shouyou helpfully thumped Atsumu on the back, “Do you think I know?? I don’t wanna! Fuck- now I’m thinking about it, that’s _not_ an image I want in my mind!”

“Tsum-Tsum! What’s wrong?” Bokuto returned to see Atsumu’s red face and Shouyou holding back giggles.

“Nothing! We’re going to split, yeah? ‘Sides, Osamu and Sunarin… _should_ be done by now.”

“Aghaaashi! Can I walk you back?”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san, Atsumu-kun already offered,” Keiji declined, smiling a little at the small pout Bokuto immediately gave.

“Aww, Akaashi! I haven’t seen you in ages though!”

“You could come over for dinner before you leave, if you have no other plans.”

“No, no! We were going to get some food as a team but I totally want to come over, Akaashi!”

“That’s perfect, Bokuto-san. Why don’t you take Shouyou around the city? I’m sure he’s not in West Tokyo often.”

When the group broke out, Keiji found himself at a loss for what to say. Generally, he was a good conversationalist (although sometimes he came off as uninterested and indifferent) but with someone he could barely call an acquaintance, he would rather not risk offending them.

“Yer real good with Bokkun, you know that?” Atsumu broke the silence for him, much to Keiji’s relief, “Why didn’t you go pro? You prob'ly could’ve made Division 2, maybe even 1 if you worked long enough.”

Keiji paused before answering, “I always knew I wouldn’t be able to follow Bokuto-san everywhere,” he chose his words carefully, “I was always known as ‘Bokuto’s setter’, and at some point I even referred to myself as his, and not as Fukurodani’s. I don’t think I would work well on the court at a professional level without Bokuto-san.”

He kept his identity crisis to himself.

Atsumu looked at him curiously, “Didn’tcha win Interhigh Nationals in yer third year?”

He nodded, stopping as the sign blinked red, “Yes.”

“You really don’t give me much to work with here, Keiji-kun,” Atsumu huffed -he seemed to do that a lot- blowing strands of hair out of his face, “Are you guys dating?”

“Hm? No. We tried for a few months. Didn’t work out.”

“Why?”

“Atsumu-kun, I hope you aren’t this nosy with everybody’s love lives. Bokuto-san liked me for being his setter, staying late with him and helping him improve. I suppose everybody expected it of us, too. Can you think of a high school setter-spiker duo that wasn’t in a relationship? Along with that, I seemed to be able to handle Bokuto-san’s mood swings better than most.”

Atsumu made a disgusted face, "You do know 'Samu and I were like the strongest setter-spiker duo in highschool, right??" he continued, “You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t ya? Why don’t you just try again?”

“And you say I don't give you anything to work with,” Keiji hummed, “You really are quite nosy. I don’t think I’d be able to handle a long distance relationship. I’d rather keep a routine, maybe that makes me a bad person.”

He reached out and pressed the button, calling for the elevator. It dinged and they both stepped on. He could practically see the questions flitting across Atsumu’s face.

“Yer really blunt.”

“Yes.”

The doors slid open to reveal a man waiting for the elevator. He had narrow golden eyes, and Keiji immediately felt like he was being scrutinized, but his gaze was on somebody else, a scowl quickly setting in place.

“Sunarin,” Atsumu spat. Keiji quickly connected two and two: so this was the infamous boyfriend.

“Rin, you forgot- goddamnit ‘Tsumu what the hell are you doing here?” Miya appeared, a jacket draped over his arm. His eyes quickly darted over to examine Keiji before continuing to glare at Atsumu. “I didn’t give you my address for a reason!”

He decided to speak up before he was caught in open fire, “Excuse me,” Keiji quietly cleared his throat, “Could I..?”

“Oh, sorry,” Miya stepped to the side, allowing Keiji access to his apartment. “Akaashi-kun, did you bring Atsumu here?”

“Nah, came to visit you, dipshit, we just had lunch together,” Atsumu answered for him.

“I knew yer ugly ass was still single- you were lying about the girl!”

Immediately, Keiji caught Atsumu’s lip curling out of the corner of his eye, “No I’m not! I literally just told you I had a lunch date with Keiji-kun?”

He paused and turned around, brow furrowed. Miya’s mouth fell open and Suna quickly left in the elevator (smart man). 

“YER DATING?!” He practically screeched. Keiji blinked and opened his mouth to retort _no, they were not_ , when Atsumu strode forward and looped his arm around Keiji’s waist.

“Yeah, what about it?! I can get myself a boyfriend!”

No, he couldn’t.

“Bullshit,” Miya narrowed his eyes, “No fuckin’ way. Akaashi’s too pretty for you.”

Keiji couldn't stop the faint blush that rushed up his face. Before he knew it Atsumu leaned down and pressed a kiss to his open mouth. 

He snapped his mouth shut. Miya continued to gape. 

“Now, we’re _going,_ thank you very much,” Atsumu steered Keiji towards the door, where he fumbled with his key, failing to insert it into the lock several times before pushing open the door.

“Keiji-kun, I am so sorry,” Atsumu said the moment the door clicked shut behind him. 

“It’s… it’s fine, Atsumu,” Keiji replied, “Though I don’t think you should lie to your brother.”

“Keiji, you don’t understand, I swore I’d be happier, and I’ll be damned if I’m not because Osamu has a boyfriend. That being said, Keiji, please go out with me."

“No. You’re right, though, I am an only child. Would you like to stay for some tea?” He slipped off his shoes and stepped towards the kitchen. Atsumu hesitated before following after him.

Somehow, “staying for tea” ended up with Atsumu spilling the tea for the next three hours, ranting about anything and everything, from Shouyou's time in Brazil to Sakusa's developing freckles.

Keiji even got the entire tragic backstory (with some heavy bias).

He let out a quiet sigh when Atsumu eagerly launched into another story, this time featuring acne-riddled Osamu. This was not what he signed up for.

-

Keiji mentally berated himself for dressing up just to meet his neighbor, of all things, but he was standing in front of said neighbor’s door, dressed like he was about to go on a date, one hand poised to knock. He scolded himself again for waiting so long to knock on a door.

He probably looked like a stalker. Miya probably wasn’t even home, he ran a restaurant, after all.

He knocked anyways.

The door opened, to reveal Miya Osamu in all his ‘I haven’t shaved in three days and I just woke up from a three day nap’ aesthetic glory. 

Keiji scolded himself for getting dressed up. 

“Oh, Keiji-kun. What’re you here for? I’m pretty sure yer looking for the wrong Miya.”

“That’s what I’m here for, actually. I’m here to apologize, Myaa-sam, I’m not actually dating your brother.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Miya hummed and leaned against the frame, halfway back asleep already. “Like I said, yer too pretty for him.”

Keiji felt very concerned. “Myaa-sam, are you alright?”

“Me? ’m fine, why?”

“My apologies- but you look horrible. Don’t you own a restaurant?”

“Mm? Yeah, I’m sick. Might be flu,” he cleared his throat, ”might be somethin’ else.”

Keiji took a step back, he certainly looked sick, pale with a flush sitting high on his cheek, raspy breaths, “Ah? You should be in bed. Wasn’t Suna-san here yesterday?”

“Yeah? Oh, well it wasn’t that bad yesterday, staying home’s just a precaution, can’t make food while sick, right?”

“Don’t let me bother you then,” Keiji quickly excused himself, “Please make yourself something to eat and drink lots of water, Myaa-sam. Hope you get better.”

“See ya, ‘Kaashi-kun.” 

Keiji waited until the door shut and the faint sound of shuffling disappeared before leaving. Was there a summer flu going around? 

Never mind that, he had a dinner to prepare for. Curry. 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto cheered when Keiji opened the door. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and black track pants. He stepped in and glanced around the apartment. 

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Keiji greeted, “Have you never been over before?”

“Nope! Hey- is that the owl I got you last year? It is!” Bokuto was easily distracted by the small figurines Keiji had lined up on his shelf. He used the chance to set the table, filling two bowls with rice. 

“Bokuto-san, let’s eat.” 

They sat down across from each other at the small table, putting their hands together, “Itadakimasu!” 

Every once in a while, Bokuto’s leg would brush against Keiji’s as he chatted, flailing around happily. He responded between mouthfuls of food, providing his input and opinions on Atsumu’s numerous crushes over the years, Shouyou’s upcoming debut, and Oikawa Tooru’s rumoured return to Japan. 

When his leg brushed against Keiji’s for the 8th time, Bokuto peeked under the table and frowned.

“Akaashi! Why’re you wearing shorts? Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s summer, Bokuto-san,” he reminded him, “Speaking of, there might be a flu going around, make sure you’ll be alright before you go back to Osaka. Myaa-sam hasn’t been feeling too well.’

“Oh, really? He’s your neighbor, right? Let’s bring him some food!” Bokuto grinned before glancing down, “Oh wait, there’s not that much left…”

“We can bring him the rest of the leftovers and make him some soup.”

“That’s perfect! Where’s the grocery store? I can go buy some-”

“It’s raining, Bokuto-san,” he quickly shot down the idea.

“Oh.”

Keiji sighed, “It’s fine, I should have enough in the refrigerator to make some chicken soup. Can you clean up the dishes?”

“Yup! You’re the best, Akaashi! And so am I, since I'm helping Myaa-sam and all!” 

They cleared up the table and moved over to the kitchen, Bokuto washing the dishes and Keiji slicing a few carrots.

He flipped the stove on and heard the sink stop running, followed by a pair of cold hands stuck under his shirt. He jumped and let out a squeak, spinning around to glare at Bokuto, who looked delighted with the reaction.

Keiji shot a final warning glare before slowly turning back around and continuing his task. He felt a steady gaze on him and he turned his head to the side to see the man staring at him. 

"Bokuto-san, staring isn't very polite," he said.

“Hey, Akaashi, will you go out with me?" 

Keiji sighed. This was like, the hundredth time, "No, and I won't say yes if you ask again. Our high school days are over."

“You don’t know that! What if one day you wake up and you’re like _‘oh no!! I miss Bokuto-san so much! I sure hope he’s still single!!’_ What if! And then I’ll be like _‘wow Akaashi! I knew you loved me!’_ and then we’ll get married, and Hinata can be the flower guy, and Konoha can be the ring bearer, who do I have as my best man, Tsum-Tsum or Kuroo? Ooh! Maybe Konoha or Sarukui! Then you can have Kenma as your best man, or maybe-”

“Bokuto-san, we’re not getting married.”

He exhaled loudly, “Yeah, I know.” 

"Now help me rinse some parsley, second drawer left in the refrigerator."

.

“Myaa-sam!!” Bokuto banged on the door. There was a loud groan followed by a _“Whaaaat?”_ somewhere inside the apartment. “We brought you some food! Akaashi said that you’re sick?”

The door opened, Miya looking at least 4 times worse than he had this morning, a large blanket draped around his shoulders and his eyes now pink and watery.

“Oof, you’re not looking that good, Myaa-sam,” Bokuto commented.

“Thanks, Bokkun,” Miya replied drily, turning away to cough into his elbow, “Now, is there anythin’ I can help ya with?” 

“We brought you some soup,” Keiji held up the pot, a small smile slipping onto his face as Miya looked much more awake than he did a minute ago. 

“And some leftover curry!” 

With that, they were invited in, though with a lot of warnings about the mess and the high likelihood that they would also get sick, which Bokuto responded with, “I never get sick, Myaa-sam! Tell him, Akaashi!”

“He really never gets sick,” though his _‘but I might’_ was unspoken. Keiji tucked himself into the only armchair in the small living room, leaving Bokuto and Myaa-sam to sit on opposite sides of the unnervingly large couch. 

“Are you two dating?” Miya blurted out after pleasantries were exchanged. Bokuto opened his mouth to speak but Keiji beat him to it. 

“No. We are just good friends.”

“But! There’s a _chance_ , and that’s what matters,” Bokuto beamed. Miya snorted into his soup. 

“Such a heartbreaker, 'Kaashi-kun. D’you wanna watch MasterChef?”

-

The next time Keiji was up late, it was partially a choice. From the apartment next door there was yelling, lots of it. A few curse words were heard, but a majority of it was muffled. 

It died down around midnight, but Keiji remained on edge for the rest of the night, opting to get some extra work done instead of letting his worries stew while in bed. 

_Is Miya alright?_ Was the most common, along with his nosier side showing through, _What were they arguing about?_

In the end he ended up texting Kenma.

Me

_Hey, are you up?_

Sent 3:17 

Kenma

_Yup_

_Why?_

Sent 3:18

Me

_Needed to get my mind off some things_

_You?_

Sent 3:18

Kenma

_Im abt to do a late night stream_

_Wanna join?_

Sent 3:19

Me

_Sure_

_Disc?_

Sent 3:19

Read: 3:19

Keiji quickly opened up his laptop, booting up discord before searching around his nightstand for his earbuds. Not the best mic, but it would have to do. 

Right as he plugged them in when a call appeared from Kodzuken. He pressed accept.

“Hey, Kenma.” 

“Hey Keiji, I’m just going to stream some Minecraft stuff. Building and grinding for the new SMP. Do you mind just chatting with the chat and stuff?”

“Yeah, same as last time?”

“Sure. Also, Kuroo’s with my lap right now.”

“Human Kuroo?”

“No, the cat.”

“I still find it kind of weird you named your cat after your best friend.”

“Shut up, I’m starting the stream on Twitch in a sec,” he listened to the clack of Kenma’s keyboard and he pulled up Kodzuken’s stream on his phone, a video of Kenma popping up.

They waited in silence, slowing watching the view count boost up.

"Hey. I'm Kodzuken, you already know that, I'm going to be on the SMP grinding for a while. Maybe build later. Keiji's here, too, last minute guest."

“Hey,” he pitched in. “Do I have to turn on my video like last time?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can if you want.”

“Give me a moment, I’m sitting in the dark right now,” Keiji glanced around the room, it wasn’t that messy, and reached over to switch on his desk lamp. He switched back to Discord and turned on his camera for Kenma to add in. 

The chat picked up as more viewers joined, though there was still a delay in order for then to actually be able to read anything. 

4ppl3p13

_Im on time for once!!_

__bellpepper__

_Is that the same keiji from the qna vid_

g.d.07

_ahh!! Is that kuroo??_

Keiji cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, “I’ll be answering questions from chat while Kenma works on his SMP. I’m the same Keiji from the QnA video, yes that’s Kuroo. Kenma, where’s human Kuroo?” 

“Probably sleeping. I think I heard him making food earlier, though.”

omgitsmebree

_...did he deadass just call the other guy human kuroo_

cod_zuken

_lmao ‘human kuroo’_

thebettertwin 

_Keiji???_

zhay_rang

_do kuroo and kenma live together or smth_

kenma1fan

_Hi!! I just wanted to say how much I love your stuff, Kodzuken!! <3 <3 _

“We call him Human Kuroo because Kuroo is more important,” Keiji smiled, imagining human Kuroo’s enraged squawk when he was referred to as such. “They also had a house tour video together back in… 2016? So, yes, they’re living together.”

The chat flitted by too quickly for him to read and Keiji took a break to glance up at the stream, where Kenma was setting up his beacon atop a mound of iron blocks out in the desert. 

“I’m going to stop answering questions and just talk, now,“ he dropped his phone onto his desk and he played with his hands. What was there to talk about, “Am I allowed to talk about anything? Is it alright if I complain?” 

Kenma snorted, “Complain all you want. You never tell me about any office gossip.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear it?” 

“I don’t, I’m asking for Human Kuro.”

Keiji chuckled, “Right, so I work as a manga editor, which is pretty cool, I suppose. My mangaka and I are working on a shonen manga right now, but it might end soon, since it hasn’t been that popular…” he trailed off and frowned, “No, I shouldn’t be talking about that. Well, if our current one ends then we’ll start a new project, a sports manga, probably. Hey Kenma, you know Shouyou’s Tiny Giant inspiration? The one that went to Nationals?”

He turned his questioning gaze onto Discord, where he tilted his head at Keiji, a motion asking him to continue. 

“It’s him, my mangaka I mean. The Tiny Giant.” 

Kenma’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose up, “Really? Does Shouyou know that?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m bringing Ud- I mean, I’m bringing my mangaka to his debut game. I imagine it’ll be quite the spectacle. Will you be there?” 

“Keiji, I’m his _sponsor,_ ” Kenma deadpanned. 

“Right, sorry,” he laughed quietly, “Who do you think will win?” 

“Have they announced his debut yet?” 

“I’m not sure, I can check their Twitter right now,” he picked up his phone once more and searched up MSBY’s Twitter page, and was treated to a recent post of Atsumu and Bokuto, along with another image of him and Sakusa. He scrolled down, quickly skimming over all their updates. “No, sorry, we can’t talk about that.” 

“Well, Shouyou will win, anyways.” 

“Are you sure? The other team’s lineup is quite impressive. Especially the setter.”

“Yeah.”

Keiji’s mind conjured up an image of Kageyama, only to quickly transform into the setter choking on rice while thumping at his chest. _He used to look up to us._ Keiji suppressed a smile at the thought, hiding it behind his phone as he scrolled through the chat once more. 

4pp13p13

_Shoyou?? Like the shouyou kudzuken wont stop talking abt??_

heyheyhey

Hi keiji!!! Its me!! Ur bff!!

haikyuuuuu

just joined whats happening lol

hphqpjkk

_Wtf no one is talking abt how attractive keiji is?? Does anyone know his twitter handle?!???_

heyheyhey

Hi keiji!!! Its me!! Ur bff!!

“We’re sticking to first names, yes?” 

“Yup.”

“Alright, hi Koutarou-san. Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? Or rather, this afternoon? You should be sleeping." He ignored Kenma's quiet mutter of "we should be too" and continued answering questions, "To those who just joined, Kenma’s working on his SMP and I’m here to provide commentary because I couldn’t sleep,” he laughed a bit at the next question, “Thank you for the compliments. I will not be releasing my Twitter, and even if you found it there isn’t much, a few photos from high school and that’s about it. Oh that’s another topic Kenma, do you mind if I say the real names?” 

“Sure, not like we still go there. We don’t know anyone who still goes, either.”

“Alright, as you probably know, basically everybody that we know played volleyball. Actually, that’s why we know them. So anyways, we all played volleyball. Kenma, Human Kuroo, and I all went to school in Tokyo, Kenma and Human Kuroo to Nekoma, I went to Fukurodani Academy. Kenma and I were setters, Kuroo was a middle blocker. Who else has been in your videos?”

“Um, Tora, Lev, Yaku, Shouyou.”

“Tora-kun was a wing spiker, he was ace of the school in our third year too, I think. Lev was another wing spiker, he was really tall. Yaku-san was the libero, complete opposite of Lev-”

“Let’s hope Yaku-san isn’t watching,” Kenma snickered. 

“-Shouyou went to a different school in Miyagi, he was a middle blocker. I think he might be a wing spiker now, though,” he lifted his phone again, “‘Holy sh… how do you guys know so many people? You’ve already listed more than my entire friend group combined’ oh, I’m going to sound old. Join clubs, there are a lot of people brought together because of a common goal. I can’t think of a close friend that I have that didn’t start with being teammates.” 

A slight pause, where Keiji was caught up in memories. It would be nice if the Fukurodani alumni had a get together again, toss around a ball, get some food. 

“Sorry about that, I was a bit distracted,” a slight grin appeared on his face at the sudden flood in the chat, “Just because I said I know a lot of people doesn’t mean it’s an invitation to ask about everybody in the volleyball world.” 

“Read some,” Kenma suggested, Keiji raised a brow but acquiesced, quickly scrolling up to where the questions started. 

“Meian Shugo? Check, Kenma’s met him too. There are a lot of repeats. Kenma and I have met the entire Black Jackals team. Ushijima Wakatoshi? Yes, I’ve played against him several times at Nationals and I have ran into him around Tokyo a couple of times. Kenma?”

“No.”

“Kageyama Tobio? Often, yes. Kenma?”

“You already know the answer,” he snorted, “I haven’t seen him in a couple of months, though.”

“Hoshiumi Kourai?”

“The one with the white hair? Shouyou likes him.”

“I think, yes I’ve met him before. I don’t think either of us have been properly acquainted with him, though. And... the rest of the Adlers?”

“No, I don’t know their lineup. Maybe.”

“Hirugami Fukuro,” Keiji squinted at the named. _Hirugami,_ sounded familiar, “Hirugami… I’ve met his brother, Hirugami Sachiro. Oikawa Tooru?”

“Who?”

“Oikawa. I think he’s from Miyagi but left Japan for Argentina. Setter, yes I’ve met him. I think he asked me out in a bar, once.”

“How do you remember all this stuff…” Kenma muttered under his breath. Keiji heard a slight scuffle in another room and tilted his head away from the computer. Miya must be up.

“...what time is it?” 

“Nearly 5:30, I think we should wrap up. Don’t you have work in a couple of hours?” 

Keiji yawned and pushed back his chair, pulling out his earbuds to stand up and crack his back. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up further, and took off his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his shirt. 

He picked up his phone and perched them back on his nose, the chat more lively than ever.

__bellpepper__

_Are those booty shorts???_

cod_zuken

_...did they just not sleep_

_kurooookennnnn_

_Kodzuken!!! i love ur stuff sm and Iiwould love it if you gave me a shout out <3 im just a small channel on youtube called PorpsQPine i play a lot of minecraft and sometimes roblox!!! thx again i love your content <3 <3_

purplemangosteens

_Rock those booty shorts_

NOTICEMEMIYA

_aww i got here just as the stream was endinggg_

kodzukenkuroo

_no kuroo!! dont leave!_

He felt his face heat up a bit and he let out an embarrassed chuckle, sticking one earbud in, “Yes, I’m wearing shorts. Kenma, do you mind if I go? I have to catch my neighbor before he leaves for the day.”

“Yeah, bye Keiji. See you.”

“Bye,” he disconnected from the call and gently shut the computer, sliding a hand down his face. He really just stayed up all night for a stream, of all things. 

Keiji slipped on a pair of shoes and slowly made his way across the hall, stopping in front of E11. Three knocks- quick and sharp. 

“Hold on a minute!” a voice called back, Miya. He took a step back when the door opened, Miya pulling on his shoes. “Akaashi-kun.” 

“Myaa-sam, are you alri-” the words caught when he noticed a scowling face behind him, Miya’s boyfriend.

Oh, it was a lovers argument. 

Suddenly, Keiji felt very awkward. This was absolutely none of his business. 

“See you, _Osamu,_ ” Suna hissed as he strode out the door, throwing a glare at Keiji as he passed. What did he do?? 

“I should… leave,” he muttered, his hands automatically finding each other. 

“No! I just… sorry ‘bout him, Akaashi-kun. Rin’s being a bitch.” Keiji frowned at the term, “Sorry if we kept you up.”

“It’s… it’s fine. I’m sorry about you and your boyfriend, I hope you work it out.”

There was a stilt in the conversation, a minute at most, but it seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Keiji felt the strong urge to hide in his apartment for a few more hours.

“You know Kodzuken?” Keiji was thrown for a bit of a loop. Where had that come from? How did he know? Was this just deflection? Most likely. “Oh, I saw your stream, by the way. I’m not a stalker.”

“That’s up for debate…” he muttered, flushing when he realized he said that out loud, “Sorry. Yes, I’m friends with- with Kodzuken.”

Miya raised an eyebrow, impressed (what was there to be impressed about? They were friends before he became famous) “I learn a little bit more about you every day, Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’ll see you around, Miya Osamu,” he turned to leave.

“Nice shorts.” 

“Shut up.” 

-

The yelling continued- though it wasn’t always at Miya’s apartment. The few times Keiji has visited Onigiri Miya, the owner would often be seen stepping away to take a phone call or coming back from one with a frown on his face. 

In addition to that, the bags under his eyes only grew, the effect only slightly lessened by unevenly applied concealer. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the conversations were about, Keiji just read a scary amount of shoujo manga. 

He tried to help out where he could without getting directly involved, dropping off a small tupperware of food when Miya was especially late, small cartons of raspberries and blueberries, and he bought Miya a new razor, just because it seemed like he needed it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you don't want to bother reading this, just skip because I feel all of these will be super long. I needed to post this otherwise I will just keep contributing to my WIPs piling up in Docs. I might update in 3 days, might be a week, sorry I'm still in the process of writing. I think the Notes will be where I dump all the information I wanted to cram in but couldn't fit anywhere, and this is where it starts:  
> \- oikawa feels intimidated by akaashi's prettiness and felt the need to ask him out and when he got rejected he spent the next day holed up in his room hungover  
> -the twins lowkey hate each other and like... i didn't write that well because so far all they've done is call each other names  
> \- akaashi is meh about most things, but he's friends with kenma and you can't tell me he doesn't always help w streams bc of his smoothing voice for commentary  
> -speaking of the stream, that was supposed to just be a short segment bc i wanted osamu to just be like "damn keiji how tf do you know so many people" but it ended up flopping and now there's 2k+ words abt a stream  
> -shit i realized there's a word limit for notes  
> -i lowkey hate all the dialogue in it yet at the same time it feels so rushed?? like there's not enough filler but if you're reading these comments, i'm prob gonna reference back to most of it in the next chapters  
> -i messed up the timeline but i only realized when i was in the shower so pretend like osamu opened up an onigiri miya in tokyo before the bj v sa game  
> -is osamu kinda a flirt even tho he's in a relationship? ye  
> -keiji thinks hes helping but hes rlly not  
> -with the akaashi-atsumu thing in the middle, i wanted to include a little bit about akaashi being 'bokuto's setter' and not 'fukurodani's setter' and i might write a fic abt that in the future idk, but i feel like he had a bit of an identity crisis when bokuto graduated, like that lost limb feelings, but realized he had to pull it together when they barely made it into finals and was eliminated quickly  
> -also yes fukurodani won spring nationals pls give me this (this was hina/kags/tsukki/yams/yachi second year btw  
> -osamu's pretty horny  
> -i've never written smut before and the whole concept im okay/slightly uncomfy with, so im not sure how the end will turn out  
> -in this chap akaashi's sassier side and osamu's overallness isn't shown that well but since it's in akaashi's pov in later chapters im hoping to incorporate it more as they open up to each other  
> -akaashi wears crop tops when he feels like it and when he's home he wears short shorts because he wants to and summer is rlly fckin hot  
> -bokuto is hovering somewhere between "i have the best best friend every you cannot convince me otherwise" and "holy shit my best friend is so hot but he won't date me"  
> -BOKUTO UNDERSTANDS WHAT NO MEANS OKAY. and boundaries, but that doesn't stop him from trying to ask akaashi out  
> -i wanted to include that thing that was like "we wont stop calling him Human ___ and it's pissing him off" so i did w kuroo and the cat he and Kenma adopted  
> -sunarin is so fckin weird but like in a good way?? there isnt much of him in this chapter (nor will there be in later chapters hes literally just a plot device) but in the hq s4pt2 ep 19 i think where they introduce sunarins turny turn and all through s4pt2 i kept screaming that suna was weird it went up like 300x  
> -i started a completely diff osaaka fic but it turned out shit so i just wrote this one in the same document  
> -this started as a stupid idea like "what if there was a story written like an essay" then i realized that was what a fucking play was so it was stupid, but now the chapter titles will be named after parts of essays, hence the chapter title "introduction"  
> -hinata shouyou has had sex  
> -kenma is pretty chill and probably akaashi's best friend  
> -cue akaashi's second existential crisis bc he realizes he has like zero friends  
> -yaknow what i might write that in  
> -my pacing is all over the place?? like i put dashes in between breaks but that's only when the thing that's happening changes, but there's a lot of mini timeskips inside of them, and next chap skips a lot of time  
> -the reason why akaashi is not affected by the late night stream is because he is literally an owl what do you expect  
> -a lot of characters will be mentioned in this fic, you don't need to remember them  
> -tags will change!! title will probably change!!
> 
> I show off once again my shit naming skills. So I need to wrap this up, if you read that thank you so much that was so stupid. I started the list as a way to cram in all the stuff I couldn't, but I forgot half of them as a wrote. There's a vague outline in my head but that's it, hope I stick to it. I love bokuaka but wanted more works for this rarepair, loved it, hated it, let me know, thank you :))


	2. Body Paragraph 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji and Miya talk, they make plans, and Keiji gets a bit of bad news. Maybe it will be okay.

It stopped. 

The yelling, that is. He felt like holding his breath whenever the block was eerily silent, like a string about to snap. A predator lying in wait. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. (Udai had been particularly generous with his use of analogies that day)

Though Keiji wasn’t even a factor in their relationship and had no right to be, he couldn’t help his mind from wandering. Rewind back- did something happen? 

The only notable event was about a week back, June 24th, a particularly restless night. It had started out quite normally when Keiji had caught a glimpse of dark brown hair stepping off the elevator through his window, and for a heart-stopping second it seemed like Miya’s boyfriend had made eye contact through the thin curtain, before he continued on the opposite way. 

Immediately, Keiji had launched himself up and into his room for the newly-purchased noise cancelling headphones he had invested in. With irritating J-pop music occupying his time, Keiji stared at the while he nitpicked everything from the loud bass nearly drowning out the melody to the constant change in key throughout the songs. 

Sometime between a song that just stole the melody from _The Swan_ and dozing off in his armchair, Keiji was jerked awake to the sudden swell of voices when his playlist ended. 

The sky was already dark, sun already long past the horizon, but the city was still waking up, lights still in transition.

It felt like time had frozen, Keiji suddenly faced with different paths to choose, all with different outcomes. _Bad person,_ the words echoed in his head as his hand slowly drifted up to remove his headphone, _bad person._

But Keiji had clearly heard his name shouted, punctuated by a slamming of a door and a glower as a brunette made eye contact with him through his small window.

In the shocking silence that followed, he made his way to his fridge and pulled out a carton of blackberries.

-

Keiji shakily got to his feet as somebody knocked on the door. His legs were numb after sitting on them for who knows how long. He peeked through the peephole, pleasantly surprised to see the grinning face of Miya Osamu, only further enhanced when the door was opened. 

“Yo, Keiji!” he was looking better than he had all of July, freshly shaved and bags under his eyes gone, exuding a strong scent of lemon. 

“Myaa-sam,” Keiji greeted with a slight smile, “I wasn’t aware we were on such familiar terms.”

“You wound me, Keiji-kun,” Miya grinned, holding up a small platter, “I wanted ta thank you, I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t been doing so hot this past month.” 

“I did,” he admitted after inviting Miya in, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? You seem much better now.”

Keiji directed Miya to place whatever he brought to the small kitchen table, and searched through his drawers for disposable forks and plates (he wasn’t in the mood to do dishes). 

“Eh,” Miiya ran a hand through his hair, “Rin ‘n I broke up. Disagreed on some things, he was a bitch, I was a bitch, two wrongs don’t make a right, ya’know?” 

“That’s what compromise is for, Myaa-sam,” Keiji frowned. 

The man didn’t look too concerned with the breakup, which meant he either 1, didn’t care about the relationship in the first place, 2, fell out of love, or 3, repressed the feelings. 

He had a strong inkling the answer was #3.

“Well aren’t you mature,” he chuckled, leaning forward on his elbows, “I made some tarts with all that fruit you gave me, I figured you would want to taste the-”

A prickle on the back of his neck. Keiji’s head snapped up, “Don’t say it.”

“- _fruits_ of yer labor.’

He sighed. 

“My apartment has been tainted.” 

Miya grinned at him, amusement clear across his face, a hair shy of letting out a string of chuckles. Maybe he had already come to terms with it?

Keiji handed him a plate and a fork with great reluctance, but couldn’t hide his interest in the dessert sitting in front of him. A thin golden brown crust with rings of raspberries and blackberries decorating the top sitting on a filling of what seemed to be cream.

“How is it?”

After he took a bite. Keiji chewed thoughtfully, picking up apricot and a lot of vanilla.

“It’s good,” he smiled, taking another bite, “Thank you for sharing it with me, Myaa-sam.”

“But?” 

Keiji scrunched up his nose and let out a slight chuckle, “ _But…_ It’s a bit too sweet for my tastes, you could afford to cut back on sugar when there’s so much cream and fruit. The vanilla, too, you added too much vanilla extract. Otherwise, you did a very good job.” 

“Thanks, ‘Kaashi-kun, I’ll take note of it for next time,” he made a face, “Oh yeah, way too sweet.” 

“Next time?” Keiji raised an eyebrow at the implications which Miya met with a sharp grin. He would never say no to free food. “You should make some for Atsumu-kun when you return to Osaka, I’m sure he’d enjoy something so sweet.” 

Miya scoffed at the suggestion, “Never in a million years. I do something nice for ‘Tsumu once and he’ll never shut up about it. Baking’s not my strong suit, ‘prefer cooking, I’m much better with spices ‘n seasoning if I do say so myself.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t be able to tell,” Keiji hummed, “I sometimes stress bake if I find myself with a lot of time,” he offered. 

They fell into silence, far too absorbed in their treats to make small talk. A majority of the eight tarts that were brought over were quickly devoured, much to Miya’s amusement. 

“I meant to swing by and just drop these off, but I s’pose that plan went down the drain, huh?” 

“Oh, I hope I didn’t keep you from anything,” he frowned as he stuck the remaining tarts into the fridge. 

“Nah, Sundays are my day off,” Miya stood up and brushed off his sweatpants, “I should get going, though. Thanks for lettin’ me stay a’while.” 

“It was my pleasure,” Keiji opened the door for Miya as he slipped on his shoes. He could take a chance, now. 1. He gets offended and takes it as pity. 2. He gets sad about his recent breakup. 3. He gets flirty and insufferable. 4. He accepts with a smile and leaves. Or maybe: 5. Keiji doesn’t ask and Miya leaves. 

5\. would probably leave Keiji regretting it later. 

“Myaa-sam,” he spoke up as Miya was halfway down the hall.

“Yeah?” 

“Would you like to get din-” _No, dinner could be interpreted as a date,_ “-lunch together sometime?” 

The other’s lips quirked up, “Sure, next Sunday?” he nodded, “It’s a date, then!”

Ah. 

-

Keiji knocked on the door, realizing a moment too late that there was a doorbell right beside his hand. He pressed it and heard the faint echo inside the flat. 

Kenma opened the door, peeking through the crack while the lock was still attached. He sighed but allowed Keiji to enter when he held up a bag of takeout.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” 

“Lunch break, I have about an hour before I have to head back.”

He sighed again but accepted the can of apple juice Keiji handed him, “I have to record some stuff to post.” 

“Vlog or game?” 

“Don’t know yet. I haven’t gotten a chance to play God of War but everyone wants another QnA, Not like anything interesting is happening in my life. What did you bring.”

“I went to that Chinese place and got some spring rolls. There’s also some dumplings and chicken, I think. Do you mind if I hang around for a little bit?” 

“Sure,” Kenma shuffled into his recording room, which was only about the size of a closet, but large enough to fit his entire setup and soundproofed. Keiji perched on a small stool he saw Kuroo sit on in past videos. “Maybe I should just record Sister Location. I think Japanese subtitles were finally translated a few months back.”

“You could’ve just paid attention in English,” he cracked open one of the boxes and pulled out a spring roll, inspecting it for a moment before biting the end. Kenma fiddled with his face cam, shrinking and repositioning it over his game, tweaking it multiple times until he was satisfied. He gave a vague grunt in response and started screen recording. 

“Hey, I’m Kodzuken, and I’m finally playing Sister Location and eating lunch. Keiji brought me some food so he’s just hanging out in the back,” he paused as something scratched at the door before sighing and craning his neck to look at Keiji, “Can you let Kuroo in.”

“Yeah,” he slipped off his stool and opened the door, allowing Kuroo to slide in before closing it again. 

Keiji watched Kenma through his camera while he quietly muttered commentary as he ventured through the map, eyes flitting around to take note of every robot in sight. Occasionally he would pitch in, pointing out small things that may help later on. 

“So,” Kenma glanced up to meet Keiji’s gaze through the video, “What’s up?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re not here because you wanted to bring me food.”

“You’re right,” Keiji glanced towards the camera, and watched Kenma follow him.

“I can edit it out later if you want, it’s not a stream.”

He let out a sigh, “My neighbor broke up with his boyfriend and I inadvertently asked him out.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow, “Inadvertently?”

He sighed again, “I asked him to lunch and he responded with ‘it’s a date!’”

Kenma stared at him for a few moments before responding.

"What?"

“Keiji, it’s called a joke.”

His ears burned. Oh. That was much simpler. Keiji shoved another dumpling into his mouth. That made much more sense. 

Kenma finally turned away and resumed his monotone commentary, breaking in between to inform him: “I’m leaving that in.”

“He watches your videos-“

“You deserve it.”

-

Keiji stared at the outfit laid across his bed. It was simple, a pair of dark jeans with a lilac solid colored tee. He glared at the jeans before scrunching up his nose and exchanging it for denim shorts. 

Sure, he would probably regret it later, but right now Keiji felt like it and it was just a casual lunch anyways.

Despite what his short visit to Kenma had cleared up, Keiji couldn’t help but stress over dressing up the slightest bit to impress.

They had agreed on 11:30, and his phone told him that he had about six more minutes to get ready before Miya would knock on the door to fetch him.

He changed and a glance towards the mirror hanging on his closet door showed that choosing the shorts was the right choice. Keiji ran a hand through his hair, the curls sliding right back into place and pushed his glasses up his nose, figure coming tip to focus.

A rhythm at the door, _knock knock knock-knock knock_. It sounded suspiciously similar to the one from Frozen. Keiji slipped on a pair of socks and grabbed his wallet, slipping it into his back pocket before making his way to the front of his flat.

“Myaa-sam.”

“‘Kaashi-kun, ready to go?” 

Keiji had interpreted it correctly, Miya was also dressed in casual clothing, a dark grey v-neck and track pants. “Yes, please give me a moment to find my keys.”

“Shit, yer legs look great, ‘Kaashi-kun,” It seemed Miya was quite generous with his compliments- just not with Atsumu. “I’m kinda jealous. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were tryin’ to woo me.”

Keiji smiled and Miya took a step back, allowing him to close the door behind him.

“Well, I was the one to ask you out,” Keiji spoke as he locked the door. He tucked at the keys into his pocket. “Where did you have in mind?” 

“Figured you haven’t had any good ramen in a while, you know that place behind the pharmacy?” 

“The one with the cats? Yes,” he found himself nearly salivating at the thought- Miya was right, he really hasn’t had any ramen outside the crappy instant kind. Miya let out a loud laugh at Keiji’s face, which he quickly schooled into a neutral expression. They exited the elevator and Keiji held open the door for Miya. 

“Thank ya, Keiji-kun.” 

He nodded and took a few quick strides to catch up Miya. He scowled at the height difference. At most, Keiji was two inches shorter than the chef. Seriously, what was it with everybody being so tall? This was Japan, where the average male height was 160.3 centimeters! 

One hundred sixty point three! 

And here was Keiji, 183 centimeters, 22.7 centimeters _taller_ than the national average, 8.937 inches taller, looking _small_ next to Miya Osamu. The fact that he had wide shoulders and a broad chest didn’t help when he was next to Akaashi Keiji, who would be considered lanky if not for his leftover muscle from high school volleyball. 

He realized belatedly that he was subconsciously puffing his chest out with each enraged thought, much to Miya’s confused amusement. Keiji quickly tucked his chest back in and cleared his throat awkwardly, fighting the blush creeping up his neck. 

“You tryin’ to intimidate me or somethin’, ‘Kaashi-kun?” Miya’s lips tilted up in a smirk.

“My apologies, I was merely wondering if walking like that would disguise my diffidence.”

Miya stared at him for a moment. “City folk are like walkin’ dictionaries or something. I’m not quite sure how to take that.” Followed by, “Hey- whaddya mean ‘like that’?! I don’t walk like that!”

“Your resemblance to Atsumu-kun is striking,” Keiji commented drily. Crisis averted. Embarrassment prevented. 

The restaurant they were heading to was tucked behind a rather large pharmacy, only visible once turning into a side street-borderline alleyway. A meow drew both of their attention as a cat jumped through the flap at the bottom of the door, sitting on the welcome mat expectantly as they approached the front.

Keiji squatted down and reached out a hand, the cat sniffing it once before shoving his head under, rubbing against his palm.

“The cats know you?”

“Yes, I used to frequent here throughout high school and college,” Keiji hummed as low rumbles rolled out of the cat. “This one, in particular, quite likes me.”

“I had a cat when I was younger, pretty sure it ran away ‘cause ‘Tsumu kept pulling on its tail.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t because of you?”

Miya feined offense, gasping and drawing a hand to his heart.

The cat was a calico, white with black and golden-orange patches stamped across his back. 

“I’d like to have one. I hear they’re great cuddlers. I named this one,” Keiji scooped up the cat into his arms when he refused to budge from the mat. “His name is Kozume.”

He placed a loving kiss on Kozume’s head. Miya raised his eyebrows and pulled open the door, “Why?”

“I named him after my friend, Kenma. He named his black cat after his boyfriend and I felt that no Kuroo should exist without a Kozume.”

“That sounds real poetic,” Miya paused as the door shut behind them, and then squinted at Keiji, “Kenma? Like- like Kodzuken Kenma?”

His mind flashed back to the lunch he spent at Kenma's apartment. Keiji sighed, “Yes, Myaa-sam, Kodzuken Kenma. I’m fairly sure I’ve already told you this before.”

He held his hands up, “Sorry, sorry! Just can’t believe it, ya know all these big hotshot people!”

“So do you. Your brother is the 3rd ranked setter in Japan.”

Miya let out a loud sigh at the reminder, “Yeah, yeah, but I’ve known ‘Tsumu since he was a wailing snotty shit! ‘s not as impressive when the third setter in Japan kicked you in the head so he could get out of the womb before you could.”

Keiji let out a snort, “That explains a lot.” He turned away before Miya could respond, “Sato-san?”

“Oh! Is that you, Keiji-kun?” A woman called out, a pot banging before she emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on her apron, “It is you! My, it’s been far too long! When was the last time you visited?”

“Quite a bit, I’m afraid,” he smiled apologetically, “I see Kozume has missed me.”

“Ah, he won’t stop moping when you’re not around,” Sato chuckled before looking up to Miya.

“Miya-kun, right?”

“Call me Osamu,” Miya greeted, “It’s wonderful to see ya again.”

“Because I’ll bring you food?”

“Well, in part,” he grinned, and all three of them laughed lightly.

“So, what can I get for you boys?”

Miya looked towards Keiji to order, “A bowl of shoyu ramen, with chasu and menma, please.”

“Gyuniku ramen with chasu and tofu.” 

“That’ll be 4,066.” Miya slipped out his wallet and slapped his card on the counter before Keiji could even move. “No ya don’t.”

“I’m the one who invited you-“ Keiji protested, jostling Kozume as he struggled to pick his wallet out of his back pocket- damn that placement.

“Sorry, Keiji-kun,” Sato chirped as she tapped on her screen, swiping the card and handing it back. Keiji felt a heaviness weighing down his chest, both warming and discomforting.

“Relax, will you, ‘Kaashi?” Miya laid a hand on his shoulder and brought the other to scratch at Kozume’s head, “Keep on scowlin’ like that and people’ll start to think you don’t like me.”

“You should let me pay for my own food, Myaa-sam.”

“C’mon, let me treat you! How’s this, you can pay next time, hey?” Miya offered with a grin, knowing Keiji would accept it no matter what.

He sighed, “Alright.”

“Go on and sit down, okay? I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

They picked a booth tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. Keiji set Kozume down in the seat next to him and absent mindedly rubbed his stomach.

“Suna-san,” he spoke suddenly, “Isn’t Suna-san playing in Division 1?” 

Another thought occurred to him: they broke up. Oh no. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to mention it- I forgot for a moment, sorry-“

“It’s alright, Akaashi-kun,” Miya cut him off. Keiji fell silent and withdrew his hands into his lap. He observed the other face. An easygoing smile, but strained around the corners, the slightest bit too wide. Perhaps that was just his regular smile, but an obvious tell was the way his shoulders were too straight, nearly an edge across.

“Yes, Rin’s in Division 1, EJP Raijin,” his shoulders relaxed a bit, but another tell: the use of ‘yes.’ “He…” Miya’s voice wavered, “He’s good, ya’know?”

“Yes,” Keiji responded softly, he would have to tread lightly, “Myaa-sam, it’s alright to talk about it.”

He nodded, eyes distant. Keiji pursed his lips, this was better than a breakdown, at least. He lifted Kozume and passed him over the table. Miya snapped out of it, blinking a couple times at the cat shoved in his face. A slight grin- genuine.

“Yer kinda shit at comfortin’ people, ‘Kaashi-kun,” he accepted the cat and rubbed Kozume’s head.

“I’ve been told,” Keiji smiled, relieved. That was better.

“Shoyu with chasu and menma, gyuniku with chasu and tofu,” Sato sang as she set down two bowls, sliding them down the short table. She cooed over Kozume before leaving with a, “Enjoy! Be sure to call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Itadakimasu.”

Miya slurped on his noodles, digging in with a fervor that was generally reserved for heartbroken adolescents. Keiji, on the other hand, rolled noodles around his chopsticks until it formed a big wad and shoved it into his mouth. 

He mulled over the questions in his head as he chewed on bamboo shoots. Would bringing up Suna again be alright? No, most likely not. Then again, repression would be the opposite of healthy. If Miya didn’t mourn the lost relationship now, then would he ever get over it? Perhaps he already had, and Keiji was just being nosy. 

“A’right, you can ask,” Miya heaved a long sigh, “I can practically hear ya thinkin’. Just blurt it out.” 

“Are you alright?” Keiji asked immediately. 

His brow furrowed, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, I figured, you just got out of a long-term relationship…” 

“Oh,” a self-deprecating grin took over his face, “You want me to spill, don’t ya? What are you, a shrink?” 

Keiji frowned and Miya hurried to correct himself, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m bein’ a shit.” 

“Well, at least you’re self aware,” perhaps too harsh, “Of course, if you don’t want to talk I could share my own stories.”

“It’s… fine, ‘sides I should probably get it out before I bottle up and implode, ya’know?” he glanced to the side and licked his lips, “Where do I start? Probably the beginning, huh? I started crushin’ on Rin around summer of third year. Atsumu always told me I was desperate as fuck to like Rin, but I didn’t see it, ya’know? Thought he was the one for me.” 

He paused to bring an egg up to his mouth. “I confessed ‘round New Years of ‘15, beginning of 2016. Pretty sure I was drunk, don’t remember shit. But I kissed him and next day he called me to say he needed some time to think. His birthday comes by and we ‘n a few alumni got together to celebrate. Had sex, relationship starts, whoo! Then he made it to starter on EJP, and I finished school and was starting up Onigiri Miya. We saw each other like once a month, tops. Went like that the whole year, too.” 

Keiji could feel the buildup, from the stiffness of his movements- near mechanical as he brought noodles to his mouth, to the way he took longer pauses between events. Any traces of a smile slipped away from his face, a stoic expression taking its place.

“Atsumu could tell we weren’t doing so hot. He’s the absolute worst, got Rin to go down to Osaka and locked us in his apartment, got rid of the doorknob on the inside. Talked it over and we made sure to clear up some time fer each other. It was like we got together again, another honeymoon period. Neither of us are big feelings people, and the fact that we had a more physical relationship kinda sucked. I’m a huge sap. The most romantic thing we ever did was probably me making dinner for him and then sex. Or maybe that time he got me a new rice cooker and chocolate for Valentines. And sex.” 

He sighed, “You probably already got that point already. So anyways. Not much communication on either end, right? I s’pose it’s also my fault, never told him what I really wanted, so dunno how he could’ve guessed. When I moved to Tokyo, we got a bit closer since I wasn’t that far anymore. But, we started fighting more often. I made new connections, new friends, and he wasn’t all that pleased. It’s not like Rin didn’t… didn’t trust me, I think. Maybe he didn’t trust himself? I don’t really know. Remember what I said about misunderstandings the other day? Yeah, basically that. He never cheated on me, I never cheated on him, but there were bitter feelings on both ends. Kind of messy.” 

“And now?” Keiji spoke up for the first time since Miya had started. 

“Now? Well, now I s’pose we’re exes.”

“Do you miss him?” 

“Aw, _do I._ Hell yeah, but the weird thing is…” Miya let out a harsh laugh, “I dunno if I miss our relationship, or just having someone around to fuck. That’s kind of fucked, isn’t it?

Keiji silently passed over his half-egg. 

“‘Kaashi, you really _are_ shit at this,” he squinted at the offering. 

“Well… I could take it back if you want.”

“No, it’s mine,” he frowned and shoved it into his mouth, “Thanks. Maybe yer not so bad after all. Food’s a good way to comfort.” 

“Thank you for the advice. What’s the saying, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’” Keiji joked.

He smiled. 

“Maybe yer not so bad after all.” 

-

“You’re in a good mood,” Udai rolled over and leaned against Keiji’s desk, making sure to avoid Nakamura’s chair. Keiji stopped humming and looked down. 

“Am I?” 

“Mhm. Did you go on a date or something? Go to a party?” 

“I won’t be in a good mood much longer if you don’t finish your script.”

He watched Nakamura, his intern, duck down in an attempt to hide his laughter.

Udai’s smile dropped and he sullenly rolled back to his own desk, “You’re no fun, Keiji.” 

“I’m plenty fun, outside of the office,” Keiji flipped the page of the manga he was currently reading, a love story between a gardener and a witch. The girl pricked her finger on a cactus and fell unconscious, only to wake up in the middle of the wood’s in a stranger’s hut, the witch’s, who revealed to her the world of witchcraft and wizardry. In Keiji’s opinion, the main male character was quite creepy, but Udai was still a few chapters behind and insisted that he was the girl’s true love. 

“You’re not even working!” 

“Yes, I’m waiting for _you_ to give me work.” 

_S-suzuki-san! I-_

_Call me Tatsuo, Aiko-chan, I feel we’re far past formalities_

“Alright, Akaashi, help me with the new script!” 

His lips quirked up and Keiji slid in his bookmark, “All you had to do was ask, Udai-san. Nakamura-kun, finish up the schedule and tell Matsui to take a break, alright? Udai-san, what do you have so far?” 

“So you know how Izumi and Chikako were stranded and Zomb’ish is trying to find the Heart? I’m thinking Zomb’ish will venture toward the island, not knowing that Izumi and Chikako…” 

With Keiji’s help, the two managed to outline the next 5 chapters in the next two hours, and were able to start up on sketches too. They were due for a break soon, the office steadily growing stuffier as the sun rose. 

The papers scattered around Udai’s work area only grew throughout their brainstorming session and they were quickly spilling onto Matsui’s, the assistant artist, vacant desk (he preferred to work in a separate room away from the piles upon piles of manga, Keiji couldn’t blame him, they were a bit overbearing).

“Have you considered hiring a background specialist, Udai-san?” Keiji asked, idly spinning a pen, “I’ve noticed that a majority of the panels are centered around the characters, leaving little space for background. They’re traveling all around the world, aren’t they?” 

“Oh, heh,” Udai laughed, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I’ll think about it… for future-”

“Don’t.”

“ _-reference._ ” 

Keiji sighed. The phone rang and Udai smiled, “I’ll get it.” He rolled over to the corner and picked up.   
  
“Udai. Oh, hello, Fukuda-san.” Keiji stiffened at the name of their publisher. He was at the top of the company, and one of the men who decided which manga were worth publishing and which weren’t. Fukuda was rather arrogant, ego sprouting from his high position, and Keiji would rather not interact with the man. Speaking of, Keiji had just gotten out of a meeting with him that morning. Was something wrong with the plan they had gone over? 

“What? Sorry, I think I misheard you, did you just say-” Udai went silent. Bad sign, “What?! Just this morning- yes I know, I was there. You promised us- 5?? We have at least 10 outlined, a month? Oh, um-” 

The phone clicked, a disconnection. Udai slowly turned to Keiji, phone clenched tightly in his hand and his mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. 

“Udai-san? What’s wrong?” Nakamura returned from an errand, entering to see Udai’s distressed look.

“He- he just… what the fuck?! WHAT THE FUCK?!” Udai yelled, Keiji quickly stood up and pried the phone out of his mangaka’s grasp before it was thrown across the room. 

“Udai-san, what happened?”

His hands came up to twist at the ends of his long hair, and Keiji could only hover awkwardly as Udai had a mini tantrum, sweeping his cup of pens onto the floor. Nakamura quietly closed the door behind him as he fled to another office.

“They cancelled Zomb’ish!” he hissed, “They cancelled it! Did you know about this? Right at the fucking climax! What the hell! We- the climax, Akaashi, the climax!” 

He froze. _Cancelled?_

“Udai-san, what do you mean by _cancelled?_ ” 

Does this mean he’s lost his job? What would this mean for Udai? Are they now unemployed? Will he be moved to another manga? How long do they have left? Does cancelled mean cut off immediately? They already had the next chapter ready for publishing!

“They’re allowing us to make 5 more chapters and then we’re done. Finished. Nothing.” 

“But- what- they- What?! I had a meeting with Fukuda this morning! He said nothing about this! We were even going over the popularity- more people have been reading Zomb’ish than ever!” Keiji quickly ran the numbers through his head and began pacing alongside Udai, “5 chapters. Excluding the one scheduled to release tomorrow?” 

“Including.” 

Even better! “How could they- we… what?? Did they give you a reason why?” 

“They’re… they’re passing a new concept for a romance.”

He stopped pacing and stared at his mangaka.

“WE ARE A **_SHONEN_ ** MANGA COMPANY!” Keiji practically screamed. Udai flinched, Keiji knew why. He was reserved, quiet, sassy but never disrespectful- Keiji rarely ever raised his voice. It was just… when faced with such _idiocy_ and _FUCKING HORRIBLE DECISION MAKING,_ yelling was warranted. “THAT’S- THAT’S FOR SHOUJO! WHAT THE HELL?!”

He collapsed in his spinny chair, suddenly drained of energy, and Udai did the same beside him. Keiji bent down to pick up the pens from the floor as Udai silently reviewed the plans for the next chapter they had written out. He balled them up and tossed them into the bin. 

Udai pulled himself together and slipped the elastic off his wrist, pulling back his long hair, “Let’s- let’s break for lunch, Akaashi-kun. Can you bring me something? I forgot to pack. I’m going to, um, pull together an- an ending for… Zomb’ish.” 

Keiji nodded and followed after his example, schooling his face into a hopefully neutral expression. He rolled the sleeves of his light blue button-up up to his elbows and made sure it was tucked into his pants.

He had to focus on the task at hand: lunch. Unfortunately, his mind had other things in mind, specifically: cursing out the entire shonen company to the moon and back. 

A presence at his side had Keiji snapping out of his daze, glancing down curiously towards the man walking at his side. 

“Can I help you?” 

The man had bleached blond hair and was maybe 12 centimeters shorter than Keiji, but far more muscular. He looked around the same age as Keiji, give or take a few years.

“You’re looking a little wound up there, darling, looking for a way to relax?” he sidled closer to Keiji, bumping his hand and Keiji shrunk into himself, nearly stepping off the sidewalk. This was _not_ what he needed right now, thank you very much. “I can help you with that.” 

“Sorry, no, I’m not interested,” he scrunched up his nose as the guy inched closer, a strong scent of alcohol wafting off him. 

“You sure about that? I can-” 

“He said he’s not interested,” a third man butted in, and Keiji looked up to meet his saviour. His mouth opened in a small ‘o’. Miya Atsumu was a master at condescending looks, the fact that he had both height _and_ width helped when his now-bleach blonde hair looked much better than the man, who was quickly backing off, helps. “Scrub.” 

“Alright, alright! If you already had a boyfriend you could’ve just said,” the man huffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Hey Keiji-kun!” Atsumu chirped the moment the creepy man stalked away. “You alright?” 

“Yes, thank you, Atsumu-kun, I like your new hair. What are you doing in Tokyo?” 

“We’re off-season and have a month of break. D’you wanna come with to ‘Samu’s?” 

Well, what better lunch than onigiri?” 

“Sure. Thank you again,” Keiji bowed and Atsumu waved it off, leading the way down the street, easily parting the crowd with his large figure. Keiji felt like a bit of a lost puppy as he trailed after Atsumu, examining his back. It was seemingly identical to his brother’s.

Before he knew it, Keiji was standing in front of Onigiri Miya, and Atsumu propping the door open for him with his foot. 

He dipped his head and entered the restaurant, what would Udai want? He knew the mangaka often had cravings for saltier foods, so maybe cucumber. 

“Hey, ‘Kaashi. What would you like?” 

“To die,” he answered absentmindedly.

Keiji did a double take at Miya’s blank stare. His hand flew up to cover his mouth, “Oh- I’m so sorry, Myaa-sam, I didn’t mean-” 

Miya blinked and burst out in loud laughter, Atsumu’s ugly chuckles quickly followed behind him. Keiji blushed and picked at his sleeves. 

“Sorry, ‘Kaashi-kun,” Miya grinned and leaned on the counter, “Wasn’t expecting that. You doin’ alright?” 

“I, uh… not the best day,” Keiji let out a nervous laugh as Atsumu left for the back room with a hearty chuckle. 

“So… did you just drop by to see me or are you here to order?” 

“I’m here to mess around with Atsumu in the back, actually,” Keiji hummed, “Two orders, umeboshi and tuna mayo onigiri, takeout, please.”

“Yer welcome back here anytime,” Atsumu emerged with a mouthful of rice, punctuated with an obnoxious wink. Miya scowled and swatted at him. 

“Get out! Fuck off- it’s not even yer damn store! Stop stealing from me!” Keiji was pretty sure Miya kicked Atsumu. “ _Scrub._ ”

“Oi! Who the fuck’re you calling a scrub, scrub?” 

“As I was saying,” Miya said loudly, turning back around, “Give me 10 minutes.”

Atsumu disappeared again and music started playing from the speakers throughout the front, irritating J-pop. Miya scowled at the new addition but hummed along under his breath as he added a mixture of vinegar, sugar, and salt into the rice,

“What got you so down in the dumps?” 

“Ah? Oh…” Keiji chewed on his lip, “I um- My mangaka’s current manga was cancelled.” 

Miya’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t look away from the disk of rice in his palm. “Aw, that sucks. What happens next?” 

That was a great question: what happens next?

“I suppose… I suppose we wrap things up and move on. A month ago this wouldn’t have hit as badly, I was even half-expecting it… but right now we’re a chapter away from the climax and our ratings are the highest they’ve been since we started,” Keiji let out a small sigh and ran a hand through his hair, “We might start a sports manga, but it’ll be months before anything even solid happens. Even then, I might be assigned to someone else.” 

“Well, I hope you’ll be alright,” Miya finished up one order and bagged it, setting it on the counter. Keiji nodded his head and pulled out his phone in the silence. He swiped up and all his notifications appeared. 

A few spam mails, a _very_ late email from the publishing company informing him of their decision (it brought a scowl to his face), a missed phone call from Kuroo, and a text from Bokuto. 

Keiji made a mental reminder to call back Kuroo to see what he wanted later, but tapped on the unread text. 

Bokuto

_Hey hey akaaashiiiiii!!!!!! Im back in tokyo for a month bc i have offseason freeeee you wanna ghang out im at my parents house rn_

Sent 11:29

Me

_Yes, I’d like that very much_

_Are you free this Saturday? We can get lunch then_

Sent 12:13

Bokuto

_Nope srryyyy i already made plans w kuroo for the whole day :(((_

_Sunday?_

Sent 12:16

Me

_I have plans with Miya, we catch up every week_

_Would you like to grab lunch with us then?_

Sent 12:17

Bokuto

_Nonono!! you need to hang out w myaasam_

_Ur making friends :)) thats good akasshi! >!! _

Sent 12:18

Keiji narrowed his eyes at the text. He had plenty of friends, thank you very much. Like Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto… Udai. 

_Is my social circle really that small?_ The editor went over his list again. Udai didn’t count because they were coworkers and they didn’t meet up outside of work. Kuroo didn’t count because he was just there by association from Kenma (they were kind of a package deal). He added Yukie and Konoha to the list, even though it had been at least a month since Keiji had contacted either of them and maybe 4 since he had last seen them. 

Oh! Atsumu, he saw him a fair amount of times, even if by coincidence, and they were on fairly friendly terms. They even knew each others’ tragic backstories, and a few odd facts here and there. That had to qualify for a friend. 

A tapping drew his attention and Keiji looked up from his phone. Miya waved a hand in his face. _Ah, Myaa-sam._ Tragic backstories, half-check. Daily meetup, check. Was that enough? 

“You alright? Spaced out?” 

“Myaa-sam, are we friends?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, “Where’d that come from? I s’pose so, yeah. Are we not?” 

“No, no, I was just wondering,” Keiji hummed, flipping open his wallet to pay for the onigiri. He really _did_ need more friends. He was currently at 6. Did Sakusa count? Sure, they didn’t interact that often, but they both enjoyed each others’ presence and occasionally Sakusa would text him about relationship advice.

“Thanks for droppin’ by, even if it was just for the food,” Miya dropped a few coins in change and handed him a receipt.

“It’s really good food,” Keiji muttered. He slipped his phone away and glanced up at Miya’s face, taking a hold of the takeout bags. “Though the people aren’t bad, either.” 

“Is that your attempt at flirtin’, Keiji-kun? Kinda pathetic if you ask me,” Atsumu drawled as he leaned against the doorway, snacking on a bag of chips.

“Yeah well we _didn’t_ ask you,” Miya snapped, “What the hell Atsumu?? Stop stealing my shit!” 

“I didn’t steal it!” he retorted, despite the fact that he was still holding it in his hand and that there was a clear angrily written **_治_ **labeling the bag. Keiji turned to leave, adjusting his grip on the bags.

“Hold on! ‘Kaashi-kun,” Miya called out after him. He turned around and hummed. “D’you need an umbrella?” 

_It’s raining?_ Keiji glanced out the window to see that it was, in fact, raining. A heavy downpour, and he suddenly became aware of the steady beat drumming on the roof. He certainly didn’t bring an umbrella. Even if he had it was still at the office. 

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“Nonsense,” he reached under the counter to hand Keiji a rolled up umbrella, “Just come get me after work. I close at 10:30. If rain's stopped by then, just drop it off at my door, m'kay?” 

He received the umbrella with uncertainty, glancing up again for affirmation. 

“Go on. The second order’s for yer mangaka, right? Onigiri’s best served fresh,” Miya gave his best customer-service smile and he really looked the part, with his black apron wrapped around his tight-fit grey tee, the grey-turning black tuft of hair was tucked out of view under an _Onigiri Miya_ cap, but his brown eyes were warm, and who could forget the bright grin? 

Keiji’s eyes lingered for a beat too long and he cleared his throat to choke down the heat rising to his ears. “Alright. Thank you, Myaa-sam.” 

He pushed open the door and opened the umbrella, stepping out of the cool restaurant with a wave over the shoulder.

Everything would be alright, they just had to take things one step at a time. 

-

“ _‘OnIgIrI’s bEst sErvEd frEsh!’”_ Atsumu howled, “The fuck was that?!”

“Shaddap!” 

“' _NOnsEnsE! I clOsE at tEn thIrtY’,”_ he mocked before laughing at his brother again, “Yer even worse than Keiji-kun!” 

“I SAID SHUT YER TRAP!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you don't like long end notes skip!! Sorry if I don't reply to comments I tried that once and I was just really awkward and lowkey creepy... anyways but I read them and tysm for the support on the last chapter!! Keiji and Osamu are getting closer as we meet the halfway point in this fic, and Osamu has roughly 3 weeks left in Tokyo.  
> -osamu is still horny, just now without a boyf  
> -he's naturally flirty  
> -with the whole lunch at kenma's thing i'd like to think whenever Keiji's just like braindead he heads over to kenma's cause kenma's just good at these things  
> -also keiji is so booksmart but he's a bit lacking in the romance cause he's only dated like bokuto who he was like a caretaker to through highschool and like some douchey college guy cause college guys are douchey  
> -i realized too late that udai already met hinata fuck but i havent read the manga so im so sorry if this is inaccurate all my knowledge comes from spoilers and wiki pages and wiki pages are unreliable as fuck  
> -the thing where keiji was cursing osamu for being tall, i imagine akaashi is calm cool and collected on the outside but on the inside sometimes it just kinda delves into a mess when he cant manage ccc inside for too long  
> -but like holy shit why tf are all the hq boys so tall except for like... liberos and hinata and hoshiumi and even then they're like 3 inches above national avrge and still in hs  
> -atsumu thinks osamu is shit and vice versa we've covered this before  
> -bokuto inadvertantly informed keiji that he has a pathetic social life and now he's sad  
> -i hate pe class this is unrelated but does anyone actually participate in dl pe  
> -yaknow that "what would you like" "to die" ive been wanting to incorporate that for so long but couldnt until now  
> -speaking of theres so much stuff i wanna do but im not writing it down which is BAD but like ahaha im gonna forget all that stuff so whoops  
> -rip zomb'ish  
> -maaaaaaaaaan udai already met hinata ://  
> -udai has not been done justice because 1 i havent read the manga 2 who the hell is the tiny giant anyways and 3 AGAIN hq wiki sucks because they choose like the worst possible frames and hsots for their photos and udai's manga timeskip has him LOOKING LIKE A FUCKING HOMELESS MAN WHAT THE FUCK WIKI  
> -atsumu totally just invites himself into onigiri miya and osamu hates it  
> -most of the things that sound awkward in writing is *mostly* intentional like osamu's excessive use of 'ya'know' when he's delving into his and suna's relationship, and in the ramen place i wanted the cat to be named kenma so badly but kuroo is his last name and why the fuck is kuroo his last name or kenma why cant you just call him tetsurou fuck  
> -keiji is shit at comforting people, he either is awkward or ends up insulting them  
> -the manga akaashi is reading might prEdIct what happens in the future idk  
> -i dont eat other culture stuff that often so when i describe food i just search up menus & recipes hahahaha  
> -here's a secret for those who had read this far: i know nothing about japan. by extension, i know nothing about manga. and manga companies? nope but im gonna get that bad publishing guy fired just you wait  
> -keiji is probably dehydrated because he never drinks water but lets pretend he does behind the scenes cause he makes smart life decisions  
> -notes: way to cram stuff i couldnt fit but i ALWAYS forget what i wanted to put and fuck now i gotta skim over 6k words again to find it  
> -on a different note (haha see what i did there) keiji attracts the gays  
> -keiji has developed a sixth pun sense because of exposure to bokuto and udai  
> -seriously have you seen udais wiki page his manga photo looks fine and great but his timeskip one looks homeless.  
> -so homeless  
> -osamu and akaashi are friends confirmed  
> -the office he works in is an absolute mess because of their always growing collection of manga and there's four of them, keiji, an intern, udai, assistant artist, assistant artist lowkey hates the office but loves the people+work so he just sits in a closet next to the office and works there  
> -atsumu is such a hypocrite he's shit at flirting  
> -OKAY ATSUMU AND OIKAWA ARE THE SAME PERSON YOU CANNOT CONVINCE BE OTHERWISE  
> -atsumu prob has a ton of relationships+one night stands with randos and currently i think he's at a standstill w sakusa which is why sakusa texts akaashi for relationship advice  
> -(as if AKAASHI is the go to person make some better life decisions sakusa)  
> -i mentioned maybe keiji having no friends thing (did it) and this time i might do a keiji's like the only person single but yaknow how hinata x everyone is a thing? you see my problem here?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you didn't actually read that shitshow of a notes and that you enjoyed this chapter! Liked it, hated it, let me know, thanks!!


	3. Body Paragraph 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji and Miya make a habit out of their lunches. Miya becomes Osamu. Keiji has an epiphany.

The rain persisted through the day, thick grey clouds covering the sky. Keiji was restless, tapping his pen against the desk as he watched streams of water race down the window. It seemed like he should visit Miya after all. 

The dreary weather seemed to reflect the mood of the office: gloomy and depressing. Matsui had been notified about the change in plans, he had stared in disbelief at Nakamura before he began furiously typing up an email to the head of the publishing company they worked for.

When Keiji had returned, feeling slightly better, all happy leftover feelings dissipated at the sight of Udai, who despite his orderly appearance, was lacking his usual exuberance and his grey eyes were stormy and puffy. He sniffed once when Keiji handed him his food and stayed quiet for the remainder of the work day.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Nakamura slowly tidy up his area, a tedious procedure that was careful and thorough. First making sure his laptop was secure in his bag, followed by a reorganization of all the papers, placing the most important on top so that he knew what to do tomorrow. Then select a few pens that made the commute everyday to and from work, outermost pocket. Nakamura finally grabbed his water bottle before waving to Keiji and leaving the room. 

The whole process took 10 or so minutes.

He glanced down at his phone, 6:19. Now would be a good time to have a snack, but Keiji had implemented the ‘no food around work’ rule and he didn’t plan on breaking it. 

“Akaashi-kun.”

Keiji snapped to attention, it was the first thing Udai had muttered since noon, and his voice was hoarse after hours of silence. Flat without any inflection, he sounded nearly dead- very un-Udai-like.

“Yes?” 

“Can you look over these drafts? I’m kind of at a loss for what to do about Izumi and Chikako,” he held out his notebook in Keiji’s general direction, not looking up from his desk. 

“Alright. Maybe you should head home for the day, Udai-san. You got here early, after all,” Keiji suggested before wincing. Udai had gotten here early, eager to work on the new chapters, since… you know, they were right at the climax. 

He nodded and rose from the desk, body on autopilot as he gathered his papers and shoved it into his bag. (Keiji cringed, they were sure to wrinkle) Laptop and tablet both followed. His pens were left on the table.

Keiji sighed as the door swung shut, the silence stifling. He pulled up a playlist on his phone and turned up the volume. It did little to comfort him. 

“Alright, Keiji. You have an email to send. Write,” he muttered to himself. He had spent the last three hours poring over company policy and contracts, and Keiji was 99% sure you couldn’t just… cancel a manga, there should be some sort of consultation beforehand, and their team hadn’t even heard a peep about it, from the higher-ups or even from the offices surrounding them. 

He deleted a sentence and retyped it twice before deciding on the original. _There seemed to be little to no deliberation between Fukuda-san and the other managers, nor was there any paperwork presented when we were informed of this decision. Another reason I am inquiring about this topic is how illogical this decision seems, Zombie Knight Zomb’ish’s ratings have surged in the recent chapters, an_

Keiji deleted the last sentence and sighed.

The hours seemed to drag by along with his music, and the editor found his glances to the clock coming more frequently as the hour hand neared 10. 

Heavy droplets hammered against the window relentlessly, signs of the weather holding up would take hours. With how Tokyo had been recently, it was probably still humid and stuffy out with the rain, an unpleasant combination. 

Now would be a good time to pack up, right? Onigiri Miya was about 4 blocks away from the office anyways. 

He saved the draft and sent it to Matsui for him to combine with his own complaint email.

Keiji stood up and winced at the immediate pain in his back- he sounded so old complaining about _back problems,_ of all things. He cycled through some stretches, stretching his wrist out properly, and pushed in his chair.

He straightened a stack of papers threatening to slip off another stack of books and finished off the last of his tea, tucking the thermos into his bag. Laptop into the case, zip it up, tablet into the case, zip it up, tuck drafts into the outer pocket, umbrella and phone in hand, ready to go. 

He was right- the atmosphere outside was _horrendous._ The streets were relatively empty, nobody wanting to linger around in this weather and the rest were waiting out the storm. Was that lightning? Cars splashed through puddles and occasionally an unlucky pedestrian dashed through the sidewalk, dripping wet. Keiji was glad he borrowed Miya’s umbrella. 

“Myaa-sam?” he called, collapsing the umbrella and shaking out droplets of water. “I have your umbrella.” 

“Hm? ‘Kaashi?” Miya appeared, still in work attire, though he now had a pair of bright pink gloves on, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to run late, still cleaning up. D’you mind waiting for a few?” 

The restaurant was empty, stools turned upside down atop their tables and workstations clear of ingredients. Keiji felt out of place as he leaned against the counter and scrolled through his phone. It was too silent, a stark contrast of the restaurant during rush hour, packed with customers passing in and out every few minutes. 

It was as good a time as any to call Kuroo back. The call rang twice before the other picked up. 

“Akaashi.” 

“Kuroo-san. I’m sorry I couldn’t call you back earlier, did you need something?” 

“No, no, just wanted to check in,” the tone of his voice had Keiji slightly suspicious. A hint of amusement hidden beneath the casual words, “So, how have you been?” 

“Not great,” Keiji glanced around, gaze lingering on the photos framed along the walls of Miya making onigiri, Atsumu eating onigiri, onigiri itself (Onigiri Miya really lived up to the name when it came to decor).

“Hm? Why’s that?” Kuroo was caught by surprise, actually curious this time. 

“Just some work trouble, how about you? Has anything exciting happened recently?”

“No, you know me and my boring desk job.” Now _that_ was a suspicious answer. Keiji gave in and sighed.

“What do you need, Kuroo-san?” 

Kuroo played stupid, “Whatever do you mean, Akaashi-kun? I can’t care about my friend’s well being?”

He didn't bother responding. Kuroo’s grin could practically be heard through the phone. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely. I’ve been talking to Kenma recently, you see-”

“You live with Kenma.”

Kuroo continued on as if Keiji hadn’t spoken, “-and he let slip that you’ve been seeing a certain someone for quite a while now.”

Ah, Keiji removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose where they had been digging in, trust the awful cat to butt in where he wasn't wanted, “Kuroo-san, we’re friends, nothing more.”

“I never implied anything about a blossoming romance! I think it’s great you’re making friends, Akaashi. But if there was a bit of _you know what_ happening, I think it would be good for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well-”

A voice cut through Kuroo’s sentence, “‘Kaashi-kun, you ready? There’s oh-” Miya paused, seeing that Keiji was on the phone, and quietly retreated back into the back. 

“Ohoho?”

“Shut up, Kuroo-san.” 

“You’ve got company, _‘Kaashi-kun?_ ”

“Goodbye, Kuroo-san.”

“Now wait a minute Akaashi-”

He ended the call and shut off his phone. He could deal with Kuroo later, when it wasn’t 10:30 and he wasn’t emotionally drained. 

“Sorry, Myaa-sam, I’m done now,” Keiji readjusted the strap of his bag and stuck his phone into one of the pockets. Miya emerged with four bags in hand, which Keiji raised an eyebrow at. 

“Food,” he provided as an explanation, “I figured you haven’t eaten dinner yet.” 

Keiji frowned. The subtle ache in his stomach made itself known to him at that moment, and he tried to hide the small double-take he did at the spike of pain. That was true, he hadn’t eaten since lunch, he could probably eat a truck worth of food right now. Or just in general.

“Myaa-sam I-”

“It’s leftovers, if you don’t eat these with me I’ll get fat,” Miya sang, placing a hand on the small of Keiji’s back as he gently shoved Keiji toward the door. 

“You- you don’t make a very convincing argument,” he frowned, fetching the umbrella from the front. 

“Just accept it, ‘Kaashi-kun! I doubt ya have anything ready in yer flat. A word of advice: if anyone offers you free food, don’t ask any questions.” 

“That’s how people get kidnapped, Myaa-sam.” 

“Well at least you enjoyed a good meal before yer passing!” he smiled cheerfully as he exchanged the takeout bags for the umbrella. Miya opened the door and the umbrella and waited for Keiji to join him. 

“You astound me,” he commented, shifting around to avoid the stream of water trickling off the side. It was an awkward fit, and Keiji was pretty sure Miya’s shoulder was completely drenched at this point, but Miya ended up winding an arm around his waist and pulling Keiji close for the two to actually make use of the umbrella. 

He knew how it looked, the moment Miya’s thumb pressed into his hip Keiji was set ablaze. Luck was on his side tonight, the chef was too preoccupied with getting home as quickly as possible to notice Keiji’s accelerated heartbeat, or his red face. 

It was far too intimate for his liking, and he couldn’t help but roll Kuroo’s words over in his head. 

_You’ve been seeing a certain someone for quite a while, now._

_But if there was a bit of you know what happening, I think it would be good for you._

What was that supposed to mean?

A loud crack of thunder and they both jumped, Miya's grip tightening and Keiji clutching the bags of food to his chest.

Miya let out a loud sigh as they finally ducked into their apartment building, and Keiji let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

He realized a beat too late that Miya’s arm was still wrapped around his waist and took the initiative, taking a step away and watching as the other’s arm fell between them.

“We made it.”

“Yes, we have.”

They shuffled into the elevator and Keiji pointedly avoided Miya's gaze.

“Wouldja like to come over?” Miya blurted out as the elevator dinged. Keiji raised an eyebrow. 

“Alright.”

He blinked, “A-Alright?”

Keiji nodded, “Alright. If you could give me a few moments, I’d like to change into something more comfortable.”

Miya looked pleasantly delighted in the change of plans and received the takeout bags with a smile. They parted ways, Keiji turning right and him left.

Keiji unlocked the door and pushed it open, deflating just the slightest bit at the strong scent of tea. He dropped his bag on the couch, he had planned on going over the drafts before bed but it seems like that was going down the drain. The editor headed straight to his bedroom, stripping as he did so, eager to get out of his constricting work outfit,

He pulled on an old Fukurodani shirt that he was fairly certain belonged to Bokuto, the large neckline and shoulder width practically hanging off his figure. A pair of thin sweatpants and he was set.

Keiji paused as he passed the kitchen. He pivoted and pulled open a cupboard above the knife block. Perfect- a bottle of red wine. 

The door was open when Keiji crossed the hallway, propped open to let the slightly-less-warm air into the apartment. He closed it behind him but moved to open the window, pushing the curtains aside.

“‘Kaashi-kun, there’s- hey is that wine?” Miya had also changed, in an outfit similar to his own. 

“Yes, I figured it’d help de-stress.”

“Well that’s what the onigiri’s for,” Miya joked, “Thanks, I think I have some wine glasses… somewhere.”

While Miya rummaged through his cupboards for glasses, Keiji examined the display on the coffee table. He set down the bottle of wine and admired the uniform onigiri, each seemingly identical to the next. 

“Found ‘em! D’you wanna watch something on Netflix?” Miya retrieved the remote from his armchair and tossed it towards Keiji, who had seated himself at the end of the abnormally large couch.

“Itadakimasu!”

Keiji picked up a rice ball and examined it for any clues for what was inside, “Filling?”

“That’s a great question! Haven’t the slightest, but that’s the fun in it, right?” Miya said cheerfully, how he managed to be so peppy after such a long day amazed Keiji. “It’s like a guessing game. Ooh, this one’s tuna mayo.”

Keiji hummed, “Hm, karaage.”

They put on the Great British Baking Show for background noise as they worked their way through 4 bags of randomized onigiri and a bottle of red wine.

“Why onigiri?” Keiji asked, the beginnings of tipsiness working its way onto his face. He cradled a glass in his hand, swirling around the red liquid, and his legs were tucked under him. Paul and Prue made their rounds, conversing with each contestant about their Showstopper.

“Whaddya mean?” Miya mirrored his position, though he was leaning forward for more food.

“What made you decide you wanted to make rice balls for the rest of your life? Onigiri is relatively simple, isn’t it?”

“Relatively simple?” Miya sounded scandalized, “‘Kaashi-kun, onigiri isn’t merely _simple._ How couldja call it that when the rice has to have the perfect balance of vinegar, sugar, and salt added to it? When there are so many fillings out there, all those possibilities, just waiting to be experimented with? The delicate wrap of the seaweed- the very food Japan is _built_ on?”

“Well when you put it that way I suppose you present a solid case.”

“Damn right I do! Onigiri’s a bit everyday and ‘simple,’ but it’s a classic, ya’know? Reminds you of home. And all onigiri isn’t as good as Onigiri Miya’s,” he declared smugly.

“What brand of rice do you use? It’s amazing, fluffy yet still sturdy.”

Miya grinned suddenly, “My rice is from Kita-san, my former captain’s farm. He owns a rice farm and all of Onigiri Miya’s food is made with it.”

“A rice farm? Is it in Hyogo?”

“Yup.” 

“Next time you visit home please give him my thanks,” he hummed happily. Keiji felt content just sitting here and not moving for another century or so. 

Miya nodded slowly before speaking up again, “Hey, ‘Kaashi-kun? How’d you end up as a manga editor?”

“Well I wanted to be in the literature department at first, but I ended up in manga editing, so here I am.” 

“And…?”

“And that’s it. I didn’t like it at first but now I quite enjoy working with Udai-san, and I occasionally supervise smaller series," he took another sip of wine, "but I still hope to write one day.”

“‘Kaashi-kun, hey ‘Kaashi,” Miya poked at his leg. 

“Hm?” he opened one eye. Did he fall asleep? Keiji rolled his neck and winced at the crack. He glanced around, the table had been cleared and the tv was off. The glass of wine was still clutched in his hand, his entire body wrapped around it as if to protect an egg.

“Sorry, but ya have to get up. If ya want to crash on the couch then I can get you some blankets,” Miya offered. It sounded very tempting. 

“No, no,” Keiji yawned and stumbled as he got up. Miya reached out a hand to steady him, latching onto his arm. Keiji flinched and drained the rest of his wine, handing it off to Miya. “Sorry for falling asleep. Thanks for inviting me over and for the food, Myaa-sam, I-”

“Osamu, call me Osamu, ‘Kaashi-kun,” he opened the door, “Myaa-sam sounds weird when it’s not Bokkun.” 

“Alright, see you around, Osamu-kun,” Keiji slipped on his shoes, “Bye.” 

He left, entered his own flat, and then collapsed into bed. 

-

“Akaashi-kun, I say this as politely and professionally as I can, as your coworker and your mangaka: you need to get laid,” Udai said. Keiji choked on his tea and sputtered, spraying his desk with the drink. 

“Ex-” Udai pounded on his back as he coughed, “Excuse me??” 

“Akaashi, you have no life,” Udai stated, “Before the… news, you spent hours at the office and then went home to read all day. Ever since the cancellation I’m pretty sure you’ve spent more time reading than you have sleeping.” 

“That’s my _job_ , Udai-san! And that was totally uncalled for!” He scowled and plucked a few tissues out of the box to wipe down his desk. Keiji grimaced at a few sheets of paper that were damp with tea. 

“I’m serious, Akaashi! You don’t even need to get laid- how about just going to a bar? Have a few drinks? When was the last time you did that?!”

Keiji frowned. That was a good question, one he wasn’t quite sure he knew the answer to. He didn’t need to answer it either way. 

“I had some wine with a friend the other day. That’s not my priority right now. We need to iron out an ending for Zomb’ish, there’s nothing more unsatisfying than a story with an open ending.” 

“That! That right there- your definition of ‘unsatisfying’ is literally just more reading!” 

Keiji stood up abruptly, “Udai-san, I’m going to lunch. Nakamura-kun, you’re welcome to join me.” 

“Oh! No, thank you for the offer, Akaashi-san!” 

While Udai had brightened considerably after a lecture about opportunities in the future, Keiji wasn’t sure if it was a good thing when he dedicated all his time to finishing Zomb’ish whilst chiding his coworkers for over-working themselves. 

Keiji entertained the idea of visiting Onigiri Miya. When Miya- Osamu had joked about Keiji being the restaurant’s most loyal customer, he really wasn’t kidding, was he?

An idea popped into his head as he passed a shop selling fans. 

Me

_Bokuto-san, are you free for lunch?_

Sent 11:58

Bokuto

_Yup!! Whenever!!_

Sent 11:59

Me

_How about now?_

Sent 11:59

Bokuto

_Now like right now now?_

Sent 12:00

Me

_Yes, now_

Sent 12:00

Bokuto

_Sure where?_

Sent: 12:00

Me

_The place down the street from the station with the really good chicken?_

Sent: 12:02

Bokuto

_Yes!!_

_wait which station_

Sent 12:02

Keiji snorted before sending the address to Bokuto, changing his course to the restaurant in particular. 

“Hey hey Ahaghaashi!” Bokuto cheered, wrapping Keiji in a hug when he got close enough, “How are you? What’ve you been doing? How’s Udai-san?” 

“Bokuto-san, please put me down,” he pushed on Bokuto’s bicep, but relished in the touch for a few more moments (God, he was really touch deprived), “I’ve been fine, nothing out of the ordinary, Udai has been fine as well. How about you?” 

“I’ve been great! My sister was also home when I visited! She’s pregnant now- can you believe it?? I’m going to be an uncle!”

“Really? That’s great news. How far along is she?” 

“I don’t know but she looks like she swallowed a watermelon!” Bokuto beamed. Keiji smiled at the mental image of Bokuto bouncing a small toddler around. They sat down and ordered, Bokuto making sure to inform everybody that came near that he was to be an uncle.

“Does she know the gender yet?” 

“Nope! They’re going to be a surprise!” 

As always, the spiker dominated the conversation, allowing Keiji a word or two in before plowing on to the next topic. Keiji had to remind Bokuto several times not to talk through a mouthful of food, which the latter apologized for every time before doing the same thing a few minutes later.

“So what’s going on between you and Myaa-sam? Kuroo said you two-”

“Don’t believe anything Kuroo says,” Keiji swiftly cut him off, “Myaa-sam and I occasionally get together for lunch.” 

“That’s great! Oh, the other day these college guys recognized me on the street and asked for a photo! Like- how cool is that Aghasshee?! Just random guys! And they were so cool about it too-” Bokuto rambled on. At this point, Keiji couldn’t decide whether it was a weakness or a strength that Bokuto could be distracted so easily.

_But if there was a bit of you know what happening, I think it would be good for you._

_You need to get laid._

Strong shoulders, broad chest, grey-black strands tucked under a cap. Warm brown eyes, an easygoing smile, large hands carefully molding rice.

Miya Osamu was the first person that came to mind when Keiji heard those words. Was that a bad thing? Yes. 

-

“Why don’t we play a game?” Osamu proposed one day. After lunch he had ducked into a convenience store and emerged with a package. Upon further inspection, it was revealed to be a pair of popsicles, which he snapped in half and offered to Keiji. 

“What sort of game?” he sucked at the base of his popsicle, where a stream of sweet syrup threatened to run down his hand. Keiji’s eyes watched Osamu’s mouth as his lips wrapped around the head and _honestly-_ who the hell thought making popsicles were a good idea? 

He cleared his throat and looked away, tipping his stick up and letting gravity do its thing. Osamu shrugged and bit off the tip. 

Keiji winced at the imagery in his head and quickly shoved them out of his mind. Next time they’re getting ice cream bars.

“I don’t know. Two truths and a lie?” at Keiji’s hummed approval he began, “Atsumu is older than me by 3 minutes, Atsumu is older than me by 6 and a half minutes, or Atsumu was the unplanned twin.” 

He scrunched up his nose as his mouth returned to the base of his popsicle, “This isn’t a very fair game, is it?”

“No, but it’s fun!” 

“I suppose. The second is the lie.” 

Osamu’s mouth dropped slightly, “What?! How’d you know?” 

Take a chance.

Keiji winked and grinned, “A master never reveals his secrets. Bokuto-san has gifted me owl figurines for my last 4 birthdays. I’m bisexual. Atsumu takes your umeboshi and pretends he bought it for Sakusa-kun.” 

“That’s what he’s taking my umeboshi for??” Osamu’s brow furrowed as he sucked on the remaining bits of his treat. At this point Keiji was 80% _sure_ he was doing it on purpose, “But Atsumu’s an _idiot._ ”

Keiji smiled but gave nothing away. 

“1. I swear there’s more than 4 on yer shelves.” 

“2, actually. I’m gay,” _very gay._ The rest of his popsicle disappeared and he dropped the stick into a nearby trash can. “Bokuto-san also buys figurines for Christmas.” 

“That’s playing dirty, ‘Kaashi-kun!” 

“Well, you never specified, so neither did I.” 

“I was plenty specific!” he retorted as he tossed his trash, crossing his arms and pouting. 23 years old, acting two decades his junior. Oddly enough, it was kind of endearing, though if it were anybody else Keiji would probably sigh in annoyance and turn away.

“There there,” he patted Osamu’s arm sympathetically before continuing deeper into the park.

“Hey- hold on, ‘Kaashi!” 

-

“How much time do you have left in Tokyo?” 

“Mm, 3 weeks? 2 weeks?” Osamu hummed around a mouthful of lo mein. They were sitting in his apartment, having opted for takeout rather than going out to eat. “Why?” 

“No reason, just curious.” 

“M’kay, can I talk about my shitty love life?” 

Keiji’s chewing stilled for a moment and he hurriedly swallowed, “Yes! Yes, you can.” Did that sound too eager? 

“I ran into Rin yesterday.” 

His heart dropped. Ah, the ex. _Well I’m screwed._ “Did something go wrong?” 

“No, no! The opposite, really. We talked it over and… he wants to try again.” 

Keiji raised an eyebrow, keeping his gaze trained on the carton in front of him, “Your answer?”

“I told him I’d think it over, but if we were to… get back together, I think we should do it properly. Like, dates and all that shit we skipped the first time ‘round,” Osamu waved a hand around to illustrate his point, “Want ta do it right this time, the first one kinda crashed and burned… and the second…” 

“So,” Keiji chose his words carefully, “You’re dating again?”

“Tryin’, at least. Not quite boyfriends, just testin’ the waters, ya’know?” 

His traitorous heart picked itself back up and skipped a beat. Keiji swallowed the feeling down his throat and looked up at Osamu, only to see the gazing out the window, eyes absent, a slight smile curled around his mouth. 

“You should try,” Keiji forced a smile, “Last time, you mentioned that communication was a problem, right? Tell Suna-san everything you just told me, I’m sure it’ll turn out fine.” 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

-

The thing is, when Keiji falls for someone, he falls slowly but surely, and he’s aware of the entire process. It always sprouts from admiration, check. Followed by a slight humming that pushes Keiji to visit them far more than necessary, check. That was probably the stage he was currently in. The next step would probably be an irrational need to shower the object of his affections with gifts. 

It was quite annoying, to be honest, but each and every time Keiji didn’t nothing to interrupt the process. Not that it happened a lot, just once in junior high, once in high school, and once in college. Thinking back on it, it was probably only a matter of time before a new crush sprung up during his ‘young adult’ days. 

Something he hadn’t had to deal with so far, however, was the possibility of the victim being in a relationship. Or as Osamu preferred to call it, ‘just testin’ the waters’ of a relationship. 

A tentative dating period that Keiji was almost quite certain would lead to an actual dating period. Whether or not it would last was up for debate. 

-

Keiji liked to pride himself on his punctuality, so you can understand his stress when Sakusa texted him " _Sorry for the short notice but I'm outside your apartment_ " while he was lounging in an oversized shirt that stretched past his shorts.

He cursed quietly as he changed into sweatpants, "Sorry, Sakusa-kun, I'll be just a minute!"

Stumbling out of his room, he shoved his glasses onto his face and pulled open the door.

"How can I help you?"

There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and Keiji was fairly sure he was smiling under the mask, but as usual, his stiff posture gave nothing away.

"Can we... talk?"

"Sure, would you like to come in? I apologize if my apartment isn't up to your standards of cleanliness, I haven't had a chance to tidy up recently."

"It's fine."

Sakusa toed off his sneakers and sat down at the table. Keiji shuffled around the kitchen and offered Sakusa tea, which he just nodded to. The spiker's eyes darted around as he slowly removed his mask, as if something would jump out and attack him.

"Is it Atsumu?"

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. Keiji could sympathize- Atsumu was certainly a handful. He patted Sakusa on the shoulder gently and slid a cup over to him.

"He's the absolute worst. I don't know why I like him."

"We've all been there at some point. What did he do this time?"

"It's... it's not _this_ time. It's always, he's just _there_ flirting and- and teasing and being such a _nuisance,_ " Sakusa scowled at the thought, "It would be so much easier if he just wasn't there."

Keiji raised an eyebrow, "You're going to murder him?"

He sighed again, "I just might."

"Have you considered just giving up?"

"Many many times. I can't, though."

"Why not? In my experience, Miyas seem to just be flirty in their nature," he smiled bitterly. Sakusa looked confused for a moment.

"In your experience?"

He pointed to the wall behind him as he took a sip, "Miya Osamu is my neighbor."

"Ah. Is Atsumu... around. A lot?"

"Yes," he knew what Sakusa wanted to ask. The other ran a hand through his curls (seriously how did he manage to maintain them? Keiji kept his short so they wouldn't run wild but Sakusa's were fairly long but he still looked impeccable) and hesitated.

"Does he say anything about me?"

There it was.

"Atsumu-kun stole pickled plums from his brother's shop for you."

"I knew it," he frowned, "Thank you, Akaashi-kun. I hope you and Miya will be alright."

.

He stared at the wall blankly (he needed more decoration around his flat, it was rather bare) before sighing and getting up. 

Keiji had been expecting a visit from Sakusa at some point, but he wasn't expecting it so soon.

_I hope you and Miya will be alright._

Was he really that obvious? Now he put the idea in Keiji's head.

Thoughts of his neighbor persisted even though said neighbor was probably still at work, Keiji just let them stew. If he just let the infatuation run its course, then eventually it would burn out. Theoretically.

Keiji set a kettle to boil and opened up all the windows in the apartment, even though it was arguably hotter outside than in. 

Green tea today, simple but sufficient. He sat around and twiddled his thumbs waiting for his water to boil. _Around this time, Osamu should be preparing onigiri ahead of time in preparation for the dinner rush. If Atsumu was around, he would be trying his best to strategically slip a few away hoping to be discreet. He would fail and be kicked out of Onigiri Miya, though not with a few casualties. Osamu would huff and put some music on, which would quickly soothe his mood._

It astonished Keiji how many of Osamu’s mannerisms he had picked up over a few short weeks. When the chef was gone in a week and a half, then he could rest easy knowing Osamu’s newfound relationship wouldn’t bother Keiji for much longer. 

Cookies. He should make some cookies, Keiji decided, already out of his seat pulling measuring cups out of the drawers. Sugar cookies were always good, though unhealthy. Then again, what sort of cookies would they be if they weren’t unhealthy? Oatmeal raisin, though unpopular, would also be good right now. He probably didn’t have raisins around. Oh, how could he forget- chocolate chip. 

Yes, chocolate chip. Keiji dug a near-empty bag of chocolate chips (semi-sweet) out of the pantry and popped a few into his mouth, savoring the bitter-sweetness melting in his mouth. 

He pulled his phone out for a recipe and was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Kenma- he rarely ever initiated conversations. 

Kenma

_Do you wanna do smth_

Sent 5:25

Me

_Define something?_

Sent 5:53

Kenma

_Took you long enoguh_

_Idk stream_

Sent 5:53

Me

_Maybe_

_I’m making cookies right now, do you want me to bring some?_

Sent 5:55

Kenma

_What kind_

Sent 5:55

Me

_Chocolate chip_

Sent 5:56

Kenma

_Please_

_Thx_

Sent 5:56

Keiji closed out of the messaging app and pulled up a web page. Bokuto was still in Tokyo, perhaps he’d enjoy some. Some for his sister, as well, pregnancy cravings would probably hit her in the second trimester, but if she had a watermelon right now, perhaps it would be too late. Oh well. Atsumu and Shouyou both liked sweets, he should overcompensate for how many to bring Bokuto if he wanted any to make it back to Osaka. Sakusa? No, he preferred healthier things. Maybe a few for the other Black Jackals. 

He blinked and two hours had passed, freshly baked cookies were challenging the resident tea scent and Keiji was surrounded with trays and trays of cooling cookies. He frowned. Did he even own that many trays??

“Did I just blackout…?” Keiji collapsed in a kitchen chair. He remembered finding a recipe, measuring ingredients, heating the oven, molding the cookies, and then… this. So great news: he didn’t black out, bad news: he was pretty sure he was out of flour, sugar, eggs, and baking soda. Keiji shook out the last three lonely chocolate chips from the bag and stuck them in his mouth. He was out of chocolate, too. 

The editor heaved a long sigh and got up to look for containers. His legs felt like jelly, probably from standing up the entire time (he really was out of shape) and frowned when he only came up with five plastic takeout boxes. It definitely wasn’t a match against the 96 cookies spread out across the counters and table like an art project. 

Keiji stumbled across the pad of heart shaped sticky notes too, and was thrown back in time to that first interaction with Osamu. _Miya Osamu._ How didn’t he think of him? He would probably enjoy some cookies. 

He acted like Osamu didn’t pop up in his head every so often as he mixed flour, salt, and sugar together, and pretended that he didn’t think about what the chef would taste like as he sucked on chocolate. 

10 cookies, 86 left, and Keiji felt a smile on his lips as he slipped on his shoes. He glanced down at his outfit, a loose tank top and shorts. It wasn’t like anyone would see him. 

The elevator dinged as he stepped out and Keiji glanced up to see the new arrival and- oh. 

It wasn’t an unfamiliar scene by any means, but it was quite unwelcome. Dark brown hair, sticking out at the ends with bangs framing either side of his face, grey-black hair layering over an undercut, hands roaming all over each other's bodies as they stumbled down the hall, not even noticing Keiji. 

_“I think we should do it properly. Like, dates and all that shit we skipped the first time ‘round”_ _well that was a lie._

He flushed, a bitter nasty feeling filling up his chest as he slammed the door shut behind him. Damn it- he had a _boyfriend._ What was Keiji thinking? The sick sensation wasn’t directed towards the happy couple in any way, no, it was towards himself. He felt a bit disgusting.

Keiji dug out the noise-cancelling headphone he hadn’t touched for nearly 2 months, forgotten at the bottom of his nightstand, and tapped on the recommended playlist from Spotify. He pulled out a few Ziploc bags and got to work dividing up the cookies. 

Every so often his gaze would stray towards the prepared box of cookies.

_The next step would probably be an irrational need to shower the object of his affections with gifts._

Damn it.

-

“What’s wrong?” was Kenma’s greeting when he opened the door. Keiji raised an eyebrow. 

“I came to drop off cookies,” he held up the container in his hands. Kenma accepted it with a small smile but his expression smoothed over when he looked back up at Keiji for an answer. He sighed, “How could you tell?” 

“Your eyebrows are doing that thing,” Kenma made a vague motion with his fingers before cracking open the container to look inside. What thing? His eyebrows certainly didn’t do _that._

“Kenma- was that Akaashi?” Kuroo appeared from somewhere (Keiji gave up trying to navigate Kenma’s apartment a long time ago) and sauntered over, slinging an arm around his boyfriend. 

“Hello, Kuroo-san.” 

“Go away,” Kenma made a shoo-ing motion and bit into a cookie. 

“Hey- you’re ruining your diet,” Kuroo frowned but picked one out of the box. “Nevermind. Bye.” he turned back to where he came from, “Hey these are really good!” 

“What diet?” Kenma muttered under his breath, before clearing his throat, “Do you want to sit in the closet with me?” 

Keiji agreed. The closet, as they dubbed it, was _supposed_ to be a punishment closet (punishment for what, Keiji didn’t know) but Kenma started bringing his DS into the closet and it just turned into a cozy safe space. With the two of them, it was slightly uncomfortable with Keiji’s long legs pushed against his chest while Kenma curled into a ball. The only light source was the slight glow from Kenma’s phone as he played games on it. 

“I’m fairly sure I have a crush on Osamu-kun,” he felt a bit ridiculous admitting the words out loud. Add to the fact that he was pressed up against Kenma, Keiji felt a bit like a teenager again, whispered confessions and furious blushing.

“Osamu-kun?” 

“The guy I was talking about a few weeks back. He’s Atsumu-kun’s twin.” 

Kenma made a face, “Why would you find _that_ attractive?”

Keiji snorted softly and leaned against his arms, looking away from him. Maybe it was the muscles. He did date Bokuto once upon a time, after all. Or it was the food. The food was a big plus.

“He and Shouyou dated for a while.” 

“Worst decision he’s ever made, really.” 

“I was under the impression Shouyou-kun could do no wrong?” 

Kenma sighed, “Nobody is perfect.” 

He took it well, like he was half-expecting it, though Keiji was pretty sure Kenma just didn’t care. The closet was a good idea, it was the slightest bit too warm, but the slight sweat kept him grounded as he re-evaluated his feelings. The closet made him feel secure, though if he were claustrophobic it would be an entirely different case, but the walls pressed in on him in a comforting way, rather than stifling.

“What’re you going to do about it?” 

“Nothing, he’s back together with his ex,” Keiji pressed a cold hand to his face and held it there. “I’m just going to wait it out until he’s gone.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Two weeks.” 

“You won’t make it.” 

Keiji lifted his head and glared but Kenma didn’t even bother to spare him a glance, “Thanks.”

“Just confess and get it off your chest.” 

“No, thanks.” 

“It’ll speed up the process if you get rejected.”

 _If._

-

Kenma was a good friend, Keiji decided as he penned a note. He slapped the post-it onto the container (why did it have to be _heart_ shaped?) and squared his shoulders as he strode down the hall.

It was highly unlikely, but Keiji knocked on the door as he set down the cookies, and then fled. The door opened just as he passed the elevator and he fought the urge to turn around, was Osamu home after all? 

He felt a pair of eyes on him as he slipped back into the apartment, but Osamu didn’t call out to him like he normally would’ve. Strange. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT END NOTES LET'S GO SKIP IF YOU DON'T LIKE READING. I don't like this chapter. When I finished the first draft I came up like 1-2k words short of the average so I just kept writing and writing the most useless scenes into this and I hate it. Apparently people like these but why?  
> -okay yaknow that bokuto scene where his sister is pregnant and he's like 'she looks like she swallowed a watermelon' well... in this au, idk if japan has sex ed classes but lets assume they do. bokuto didn't pay attention during the girls section cause he's just like "...im gay" so he just slept the whole time  
> -in the fandom there's that thing where atsumu stans hate atsumu and I totally see it atsumu is the worst  
> -keiji drinks so much tea what the fuck  
> -hahaha remember last end notes? akaashi is no longer dehydrated :D  
> -also yes, atsumu and hinata dated in the past  
> -i need to include less timeskip-happy osamu and more inarizaki constant disinterested face osamu  
> -udai just went through an emotional rollercoaster through this chapter  
> -how do you said udai is it like "ooh-dai" or "you-dai"  
> -kuroo also sucks (in a great way)  
> -honestly ^ is most haikyuu characters in a nutshell  
> -in my au akaashi is like not super horny (ahem osamu) but just gets it up when he feels like it aka self control 1000  
> -akaashi in a nutshel: self control 1000  
> -what good story doesn't have conflict? enter sunarin. i dont think sunarin's ever going to have any actual dialogue or story  
> -damn i hate this chapter i really hope conclusion ends up okay  
> -the lines between "close friend" and "dating" with bokuto and akaashi are like... so blurred. but they're not dating, did in the past tho  
> -i NEED more bitch face osamu but i completely forgot about him  
> -akaashi is touch starved confirmed  
> -the park scene (i did say the setting was a park right) where they play 2t1l that's always my go to game bc im unoriginal and i think i already used it in a past fic lol. well anyways they're eating popsicles right and WOOOOO popsicles are so underrated!! idk what japan popsicles are like but they're not eating those american rocket style pops their having the chinese ones :DD i love those but they're overpriced and it's straight up frozen sugar water. it's called something like '老冰棍' except that's just like slang or smth and all my google searched came up nothing  
> -have you seen kuroko no basuke? its good and underrated. another sports anime and the main character kuroko has rlly good luck with popsicles and always win so that's akaashi now  
> -i realized halfway through writing this how influenced this fic is by steupts on instagram, they have such a good bokuaka comic that has osaaka in the sequel and FUCK I LOVE IT SO MUCH highly recommend!!  
> -they're getting ice cream bars next time  
> -posting this fic has given me so much motivation to write because i absolutely cannot leave a fic on ao3 uncompleted  
> -atsumu steals umeboshi for sakusa because get what? ding ding! he's also shit at the wooing phase of relationships  
> -i also love bokuaka and since there hasn't been that much osamu content during pt2 im just combining bokuto and atsumu onto him fck  
> -also yaknow how writers do that thing where they project their problems onto characters sometimes? guess what i do that :D but MORE guess what it's only with stupid stuff  
> _cont like the way akaashi eats ramen, the cookies, ice pops, the way akaashi sits actually i realized its literally just akaashi i project small quirks onto  
> -lets think of some osamu stuff now yaknow flirty osamu i lowkey do that with my friends. i say 'friends' as in we know nothing abt each other but we always talk  
> -the thing with "eat with me or ill get fat" my guy friends started doing that over lockdown and it's the most annoying thing and fuck now it has infiltrated this fic and why am i doing this  
> -i say that as if i have any girl friends i have like 2  
> -akaashi thinks guys are dumb but girls are even dumber and ahaha guess who's projecting again  
> -i have a theory that it is literally impossible to be completely gay/straight if anime exists  
> -i realized reading back that akaashi didn't really have the internal dialogue that much in the last 2 chaps but that's only bc no one talked to him but now he's just like... "bleh feelings"  
> -if you didn't pick that up at the end there was sunarin and "wE'rE stIll nOt dAtIng" but guess what he caught akaashi giving osamu cookies how will he take this?  
> -sakusa is gorgeous i wanna write a sakuatsu fic but my writing style doesn't fit either sakusa or atsumu so eh  
> -kuroo gave up on trying to maintain kenma's diet cause kenma just lives off sweets for energy  
> -i forgot what i wanted to put so up there is just a load of bs
> 
> Thanks for reading, loved it, hated it, let me know thanks :)


	4. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: Keiji is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely messed up the timeline so ignore that, and this is short + idk if I like it or not but enjoy anyways!

Keiji was perplexed. He had somehow climbed the ranks, going from “‘Kaashi-kun” to “‘Ji” in one short hour. It threw him for a loop and he cannot, for the life of him, figure if the erratic beat of his heart was from confusion or hope.

“Let’s go to that pho place down the street from the pharmacy,” Osamu suggested and Keiji quickly agreed. If he stuck a bit closer to avoid the crowd than necessary, then only he would know. 

He fought to keep his thoughts under control, focusing instead on the broad expanse of Osamu's back. The other was wearing an old Inarizaki tee, hugging his shoulders snugly since he had grown since high school. It was unfair, Keiji hadn't changed at all, though his hair was slightly longer and his eyes just broke.

“...hello? ‘Ji?” the nickname snapped Keiji out of his train of thought and he looked up. Osamu had the door popped open with his foot and an amused grin, “You comin’ in? Or…”

Keiji stepped up and muttered an apology. 

Speaking of Osamu… how do you casually ask somebody if they’re dating someone or just fucking? After the whole thing with Suna, Keiji wasn’t quite sure what to make of his feelings. (That was a lie, he was perfectly sure.) The answer is there is no polite way. So, Keiji waited until they were seated and just asked it like it was.

“Osamu-kun, are you and Suna-san just fucking or are you back together?” 

He choked on a piece of beef and brought his hand up to his mouth as he coughed. Keiji patted him on the back.

“Sorry- just wasn’t expectin’ you to say ‘fuck’, I swear I never hear you swear!” he grinned. Keiji grimaced at the pun. “We’re- well, I _know_ what I said but we’re… fucking?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” 

“Both, I dunno. There’s not any official labels right now.” 

“Hm.” he dropped the topic. 

One week, and he’ll be gone. 

-

For the first time… _ever_ , Keiji had opted to stay in Onigiri Miya as he ate. This was partly due to the fact that Atsumu was, in the words of Osamu, “skulkin’ around all creepy like” again, and the setter insisted that Keiji should join him upon entering the restaurant.

“So I heard Omi-kun’s back in Tokyo to visit family or whatever, has he dropped by?” Atsumu asked not-so-casually. He leaned forward eagerly.

“Client information is confidential, Miya-san, I apologize for the inconvenience this may have caused you.”

“Haha,” he said drily, “Now tell me, please?”

Keiji sighed, “Yes. Sakusa visited my apartment a couple days ago.”

Atsumu brightened considerably, “Really, now? What’d he say?”

“I respect Sakusa-kun’s privacy, and I suggest you should do the same,” Keiji’s eyes wandered toward the counter, where Osamu was chatting with one of the regulars as he wet his hands. Keiji put on his glasses and squinted. 

Osamu looked… _strange._ Or, he looked like a stranger. Rather than the crinkle of the eyes, light-hearted smile and faint blush he was used to, Osamu’s face was blank. A slight downturn of the lips pairs with heavy-lidded eyes and slightly raised eyebrows. He looked disinterested in the conversation, a stark contrast to the attentive and caring Osamu he knew. 

Attentive and caring, add that to the list.

“Is something wrong with Osamu-kun?”

“Whaddya mean ‘something wrong?’ It’s Osamu,” Atsumu fished a thermos out of his bag and sipped on it. “It’s coffee, ya want some?”

“No, thanks,” he frowned, “His… face? He looks so... bored.” 

“That? ‘Samu always looks like that. Chronic resting bitch face, the ugly shit.”

“...really?” Keiji couldn’t ever recall a moment where Osamu had looked that extreme. Maybe during their high school days, but back then he was much too occupied chasing Bokuto around the stadium and glowering at Atsumu to take much notice of the grey-haired wing spiker. “He looks better with a smile,” he commented absent mindedly. 

Atsumu looked at him weirdly and Keiji reeled back. 

“What?” 

“‘Samu smiles at me like, twice a year, and that’s when he’s laughin’ at me.”

 _He never seems to stop smiling with me_. Keiji brought his last rice ball to his mouth for lack of a response.

Atsumu broke the silence for him, “Yer a good friend, Keiji-kun. But you could be better with Osamu.” 

What. His face must have portrayed his confusion, because the next second Atsumu was laughing it off, changing the topic to something Hinata did the other day when Atsumu was visiting Sendai with him. 

Keiji glanced towards the back again, and Osamu’s expression still hadn’t changed, lazy half-lidded eyes, a slight downturn of the lips, raised eyebrows as if to say “really? Try me.”

_Yer a good friend, Keiji-kun. But you could be better with Osamu._

-

Udai was passed out across his desk when Keiji returned, thankfully his freshly inked pages were drying beside him, not smudged underneath. 

That had to be a really uncomfortable position to take a nap. 

“Udai-san,” he shook the mangaka’s shoulder. Udai stirred quickly, blinking as he stretched and let out a loud yawn.

“Oh, did I fall asleep? Shit. What time is it?”

‘You’re fine, Udai-san. It’s nearly 1, and you’re ahead of schedule. Nakamura-kun, did you say you brought an extra bento this morning?”

“Yes!” he dug through his bag and retrieved said bento, handing it to Keiji, who unwrapped it for Udai. “Sorry for not waking you up, Udai-san.” 

“It’s fine, Nakamura-kun,” Keiji answered for him, “Thank you, rather. Udai-san, if you’re falling asleep on the job, perhaps you should go home for the day.”

“No, I still have like 3 pages to line,” Udai accepted the bento and thanked the intern before turning away and ignoring whatever else Keiji had to say. He frowned. 

\- 

Keiji pressed the heel of his palms against his palms as the elevator dinged as the clock struck 11. Two figures stumbled out. At this point it was back to the schedule they had before. 

He actually missed the days when Osamu got home just to yell at his television.

6 days left.

-

A figure darted across the street and called out to Keiji as he entered the elevator. It was a familiar baritone, thick with an accent that was rough around the edges- distinctly different from his own Tokyo one. 

Keiji pressed on a button and the doors slid shut on command. God, he was such an asshole. What Osamu didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

5 days left.

-

“I can’t deal with it,” Keiji admitted one day while trying his best not to drive off the track. Kenma bumped him off with a shell and Keiji scowled, “I gave him a box of jellies the other day.” 

“Like I said, you won’t last. Just confess already.”

“I can’t! He has a boyfriend, I don’t want to be a home wrecker,” Keiji halfheartedly aimed a red shell towards Kenma and falling back to 10th in the process. “It feels like a reminder every time I see them together.”

“I thought you said they were just fucking.”

He sighed, “Yes, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“How many days until he leaves?”

“4, the train leaves on Sunday morning.”

-

“‘Ji, ‘s that you?”

It took a moment for Keiji to comprehend that “‘Ji” was supposed to be him. He looked up to see Osamu hanging out of his door frame and walked over. “Yes? What’re you doing home so early?”

“Moving truck came today, and I’m still packin’ up my stuff. Left Rei-chan to manage the shop, she’s gon’ be the one there after I’m gone anyways. Could you give me a hand?” 

“Of course,” Keiji agreed, despite the fact that it was better to cut off ties now and get over him, rather than offer to help out and spend a few more hours in Osamu’s company. But there was a reason the head and the heart aren’t one in the same.

“Thanks! There’s some random shit in my drawers I need to sort through, can ya pack up the plates and them?”

He nodded and headed toward the kitchen and began pulling open the cabinets. It was such a mess, random stacks here and there, bowls on the verge of tipping out, a stray chopstick that somehow made it up there. A majority of them were empty. You’d expect that somebody who ran their own restaurant would have a neat kitchen, but Osamu was obvious proof that wasn’t the case.

There were a few empty boxes lying around the living room that he assumed were for packing and carried it over, placing it on the counter. Plates at the bottom, spread them out, matting in the middle to cushion the bowls and to protect the plates from scratching, 

Keiji pulled open a cupboard and smiled. A pair of wine glasses, separated from their set. 

After packing away mugs and bowls, Keiji was tasked with trying not to trip over the 4 boxes of clothes (why didn’t he just use suitcases?) Osamu had barricaded the kitchen entrance with. 

“Real nice of you,” Keiji frowned at the wall. Osamu grinned as he stacked another box on top, building up height.

“Damn, I miss the days when you were all ‘Myaa-sam, I hope it’s no trouble’ and ‘Myaa-sam, are you alright?’” Osamu pitched up his voice but kicked the boxes off to the side to spare Keiji the leap.

“That respect dipped the moment MasterChef started airing in Japan,” he replied, “Now is there anything else that needs packing up?” 

“Nope! Thanks fer helpin’, d’you wanna stay for dinner?” 

_Yes._ He glanced behind him, “I don’t think the kitchen’s in any shape to use right now.”

“And that is why the wonderful world of takeout exists, ‘Ji. Do you know the sushi place across the pharmacy?” 

“Why are all of your directions centered around the pharmacy?” Keiji wondered aloud, taking a seat on a blanket Osamu had laid out in a feeble attempt to replace the couch. 

He winked, “What can I say? I’m a regular.” 

Keiji’s mood dropped at the implications and he averted his eyes, tracing over pieces of tape sealing the boxes. He opted to answer the chef’s earlier question, “Yes, I’m familiar. I like their uramaki rolls.”

Osamu made a noise of agreement and pulled out his phone. He pressed his lips in a thin line and threaded his fingers together so that they wouldn’t fidget, an annoying habit he couldn’t kick.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he huffed softly, flopping down next to Keiji. _Miss me?_ He wanted to ask. “But fuck- I miss home. Rent is Tokyo’s a bitch, though, but that’s something that can’t be helped, I s’pose.”

“I’ll miss you,” Keiji blurted out. He scrambled for recovery at the wide-eyed look Osamu sent his way, “Rei-san’s onigiri just isn’t the same.” 

A small smile split across the other’s face, “I try my best!” 

_He looks better with a smile._ Keiji pulled his legs up to his chest and let his gaze sweep around the room once more. It looked exactly like how moving felt, messy, exciting, empty. Very empty. He returned to Osamu to see him copying Keiji, save for the steady stare towards Keiji’s face.

They studied each other for a few moments, maintaining eye contact, _brown, more… grey? than Atsumu’s,_ before Keiji broke away with a slight blush. It could’ve been anyone, 13.82 _million_ people in Tokyo, at least 20 in their apartment block, and he had to fall- no, crush on Miya Osamu. Who had a boyfriend. 

Keiji let out a small sigh at the reminder. 

“Somethin’ wrong, ‘Ji?”

And that fucking nickname wasn’t helping either. 

“No, just hungry,” he told a half-lie. He really was hungry. “Did you already order?” 

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’, “Should be here in 10. D’you want something to drink? Think I have some juice left in the fridge I need’ta get rid of.”

Keiji nodded and observed Osamu’s back as he retreated into the kitchen. He latched onto the fading bruise on the side of his neck and returned to staring at tape. 

When he returned it was with the two wine glasses Keiji left out, filled with apple juice. Or maybe it was whiskey. 

Sadly it turned out to be the former, but the cold sweetness was a welcome distraction, though at this point anything would be a welcome distraction. He swished the liquid around like it was wine and watched it settle before repeating the motion. 

A knock on the door broke Keiji out of his stupor and he glanced up. 

“Must be the sushi,” Osamu rose to his feet and Keiji fished a few bills out of his wallet, tossing them into the air and watching it flutter to the ground uselessly. 

Osamu chuckled, “Am I a stripper now? It’s fine, ‘Ji, I got it this time.” 

“But you only have 3 days left!”

“Exactly! So let me do what I want, ‘Ji.”

Keiji scowled as his own argument was used against him. He tucked the yen under the blanket for Osamu to find later. 

A short exchange and a minute later, a takeout box was passed to Keiji and he pried it open to find his rolls. He broke apart his chopsticks with a satisfying crack. Osamu did the same beside him.

“Itadakimasu.” 

He dipped a piece into the accompanying sauce and bit into it. Osamu had ordered nigiri, along with maki rolls for the two to share (the two of them could eat far more than an average Japanese person, their lunches together had revealed). 

“Hey, ‘Ji?”

“Yes?”

He swallowed and Keiji followed the motion. “D’you mind seeing me off on Sunday? Tokyo station all the way out of the city then a bus to Osaka. I get if you have work, actually forget it- you must be busy with yer manga and all that-”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” Keiji cut him off. _Why did he say that._ “We are friends, after all.” 

Osamu gave a nervous smile, “Yeah, friends.” 

Why couldn’t he just ask his boyfriend? Or coworkers. Oh, because his boyfriend is probably out of Tokyo already and his coworkers are running his restaurant.

In other words, Keiji was the last resort if he didn’t want to be lonely. That’s great. He let out an infinitesimal sigh and pulled out his phone, alerting Udai of the change in plans ahead of time.

Just as Keiji slipped away his device, a ping from Osamu’s rang. A text. Osamu stuck a piece of sushi in his mouth and held his chopsticks there as he opened up his phone. Keiji glanced to the side and caught the text just as Osamu turned it off with a sharp click.

Rin

_Do you have an answer yet?_

_It’s fine if you don’t_

Sent 6:19

“Are you alright?” Keiji re-evaluated at the small sigh Osamu let out. _Invasion of privacy_ , “Sorry, I shouldn’t have read your text.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he ran a hand through his hair, _unsanitary,_ “Just… Rin asked me out. Again, I s’pose. I dunno what to say and haven’t given him an answer yet, ‘cause it seems like we’ve been doing pretty well but then again, it didn’t last time, too. And the time before that-”

It was like the floodgates had opened. Except, Keiji didn’t cry, so something else came out instead.

“Please don’t,” Keiji blurted out. _Fuck what._ Osamu looked up and his hand dropped, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Shit I don’t mean- you’re fantastic and- and- _sublime._ Not that- that Suna-san isn’t, it’s just, y-you’ve tried, right? And I know I’m not- not ideal, popular, picture-perfect athlete, or even _anyone,_ really, of note. But I swear: if you would- if I were to- I’d take you on a first date, a million of them if you’d like, give you anything- everything. Fuck- what am I saying?” Keiji sucked in a deep breath and let out a bitter laugh. Osamu was silent and seemed to have reverted to his supposedly-regular state of bitch face. Not really the most encouraging face out there when faced with a confession. “Who the fuck do I think I am? Sorry, forget- forget all of that.”

He scrambled to his feet and ducked away from Osamu’s outstretched arm, “I’ll- I need to go. Just, forget I was over. Thanks for the sushi.”

With that, Keiji shut the door in Osamu’s face and nearly jumped down 3 flights of stairs. 

_Fuck._

-

It took sprinting across 4 blocks, 2 cups of tea, and a whole lot of time spent in the closet for Keiji to manage a coherent sentence. 

“What the fuck.” 

Kenma looked up as Keiji slouched out of the closet and collapsed on the couch next to him, burying his head in his arms. Kuroo hovered above him with another cup of tea. 

“So you blew up,” Kenma stated. 

“Yes.”

“And how did he take it?” 

He shrugged and accepted the cup from Kuroo, who leaped over the back of the couch and landed next to Kenma, who set down his phone. 

“I ran here before he said anything.”

Kuroo gave him an _‘are you shitting me?’_ face, “You’re telling me you spilled your guts out for a guy who might like you back, and as soon as you said your piece you bolted, leaving him with no way to contact you?” 

He shifted awkwardly, “I… yes.” 

“You dug this hole for yourself, Keiji.”

“I know,” Keiji groaned, “That’s the worst part. Everyone always tells me that I’m so patient, so cordial, so intelligent, all the damn time. Why the fuck can’t I be that when it matters the most?” 

Kuroo let out a low whistle, “This Osamu-kun must be something if he’s getting you to swear this much.”

Kenma silenced him with a quick glare. 

_He really is._

3 days left.

-

Keiji was quite the master of denial. He didn’t run from things often, and when he did it was with good reason. The reason this time was his mortifyingly sappy incoherent confession.

He did not confess.

He was not avoiding Osamu.

He and Osamu were perfectly fine- it was just a coincidence that Keiji was never home when Osamu tried to talk to him.

He was not camping out at Kenma and Kuroo’s place, they had merely extended an invitation for him to sleep over, and who was he to deny them his company?

If he was a bit spaced out during work, that was because of stress from the last chapter. If he was ignoring texts from Atsumu, it was because he was busy at work. If he was avoiding his apartment, then who was there to see? A stalker?

Nevertheless, Keiji didn’t like going back on his promises, and he already agreed to see Osamu off. It really was his own fault. 

Damn it, Kuroo.

2 days left.

-

Alright here was the plan: 1. Meet up with Osamu at the train station. 2. Give him his goodbye/apology gift [a small pack filled with chips, cookies, and sweets (damn it)]. 3. Apologize for his behavior. 4. Say goodbye.

It was simple, theoretically. Now he had to actually execute it.

1 day left.

-

Keiji steeled himself, squared his shoulders, and strode into the train station, making a beeline for the notice board. _North, East, South, West._ He would be going South-West, so platform 8. Train would leave in 20, he was probably trying to operate the ticket machine right now.

There were people queued up at every machine, 2-3 upon a second glance, though none were revealed to be Osamu. 

He slowly walked the entire length of the small corner and back, before checking his phone for the time. 17 minutes. 

Why didn’t he exchange numbers, again? Keiji glanced up and was able to vaguely register a blur before a body barreled into him, stealing his breath and rendering his legs useless. 

“You came,” Osamu whispered next to his ear, breath hot. Keiji blinked and lifted his arms to wrap around the broad shoulders. 

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. Osamu pulled back but his arms were still wrapped around Keiji’s shoulders.

“Hi,” he spoke again before Keiji could open his mouth to apologize, “Don’t apologize, please. Ya ran out before I got a chance to explain myself.”

“...sorry.”

Osamu let out a mock sigh and shook his head in disappointment before placing it back on Keiji’s shoulder. _Does this mean..?_

“I broke things off with Rin,” he led with, and Keiji’s eyes went wide. “I thought you weren’t interested and that ya lied about liking Bokkun.” 

He paused for a moment, “Why would I lie?”

“I dunno, but I never thought it’d be because ya had a crush on me.” He could feel the slight smirk on Osamu’s face. 

“Don’t put it that way, it makes me sound juvenile.” _Was this a rejection or not?_

Osamu held him closer and buried his head into the crook of his neck. “Ya sure about that? I don’t make yer heart skip a beat every time ya see me?”

_He does._

“Now you’re just getting cocky,” Keiji’s eyes squeezed shut as he smiled. _Right out of a shoujo manga._

“Yeah, but you like it,” he practically purred, “And I. Like. You.”

The crowd fades to white, the noises blur, his heartbeat is amplified, all he can feel is a warm body wrapped around his.

He felt his ears burn pleasantly and Keiji took a step back, adjusting his glasses. He glanced up and quickly sobered up at the time. 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late,” he frowned, “You have 11 minutes until the train arrives.”

“I’ll miss it,” Osamu replied immediately, “I’ll go back another day.” 

“No, it’s expensive,” Keiji tugged on his hand toward one of the machines. “I’ll still be here next time you visit.”

“Atsumu told me you didn’t do long-distance.” 

Keiji did say that. He glanced toward the side and smiled softly, “I can make a few exceptions.”

After tapping a few buttons and inserting yen, a ticket sputtered out of the machine. Keiji quickly ripped it off and shoved it into Osamu’s hand.

“Come on. 9 minutes.” 

“Hey- hey, ‘Ji,” Osamu pulled him to a stop and Keiji realized he was still holding onto the other’s hand. 

“Yes?'

He dropped Keiji’s hand and assumed a confident stance, shoulders pushed back with one hand on his hip. To top it all off he donned a flirty grin, a slight smirk with half-lidded eyes.

“Hey there gorgeous, can I get yer number?” Osamu threw in a wink and Keiji stared at him in disbelief. 

His already pink face flushed an unattractive red (whoever thought blushing was cute has _clearly_ never met Keiji) and narrowed his eyes.

“...is that a no?”

“Just- _give me,_ ” Keiji snatched the phone out of Osamu’s hand and angrily typed in his details, setting a contact for _Akaashi Keiji._

“Yer cute when yer flustered,” Osamu cooed after pocketing his phone, now holding the secrets of Keiji’s number.

“We… the _train,_ Osamu, the train!” Keiji very nearly dragged the man away, cursing him out in his mind. Not really. 

“Alright, alright… give me a kiss goodbye?” they came to a stop and Osamu gave him another cheeky grin, though this time Keiji could tell he wasn’t really expecting anything. 

_Sweet._

Keiji leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. _Oh right._ He pulled the small apology (now travel) package out of his bag and shoved it toward Osamu's chest. Scenario 1, nothing is said and he leaves just like that. 2, he takes it badly and thinks Keiji to be a… slut? 3, he takes it as an invitation and doesn’t want to leave, missing his train. 4, he forgets about it later on. 5, he’ll get happy. 

3 would be the worst. 

“Hey, next time you stay in Tokyo? Don’t bother with renting a place,” Keiji stepped away. “Sorry, was that too forward?” 

His nose crinkled as a wide smile spread across Osamu’s face. He gave a two fingered salute and fed the machine his ticket, stepping forward and pushing the bar around. 

“See ya, ‘Ji!” 

Keiji waved, “See you.”

He fought the urge to pump his fist. Keiji let out a breath when Osamu was swallowed up by the crowd and shuffled into a bathroom, laughing giddily as he stared at himself in the mirror.

_He likes me back._

-

“Where are we going?” Udai whined like a toddler for the umpteenth time. Keiji debated (for the umpteenth time) the cons of throwing his mangaka out the window. “Why’re we in Sendai??”

“I’ll tell you when you get there,” he managed, pulling into a free parking space, much to the dismay of a driver in a silver car. 

“I thought this was supposed to be a work trip,” Udai closed the door. Keiji sighed once more.

“Wrong way, we’re heading to the stadium,” he pointed. The mangaka’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh are we seeing the Black Jackals-Adlers game?!” _Well that ruined the surprise._ Keiji couldn’t help but share some of the excitement, though.

“Yes, I figured it would be good for future reference.”

Udai whipped around and grinned at him, “Akaashi-kun! Was that a pun?”

He immediately dropped the small smile and picked up his pace, “No, you heard nothing.” He can blame Osamu, prolonged exposure, right?

There was a steady stream of people flowing into the stadium, Kamei Arena Sendai, Keiji handed their tickets over and the pair were quickly allowed in with directions to the Black Jackals-Adlers game.

“Let’s check out the vendors,” Keiji suggested. It really wasn’t a suggestion, as he nearly sprinted out into the open area, head swiveling as he scanned the stalls. 

“Fukurodani setter!” a voice called. He snapped to attention and turned to the voice. A relieved smile spread across his face. 

_Osamu._

The first thing Keiji noticed was the short hair, free of the last grey strands that normally flopped across his forehead.

“Myaa-sam,” Keiji greeted warmly when he approached the Onigiri Miya stall, miraculously void of a line. The game must be starting soon. 

He watched as Osamu quickly stripped off his gloves and reach across the small counter. Keiji’s head was pulled forward with a slight “Mmph!” before they met in the middle. 

Osamu tasted savory, for lack of a better word. A mix of flavors, salty, sweet, sour- pickled plums? His lips were soft against Keiji’s, and his body sagged against the stall. 

When they pulled away, Osamu closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Keiji’s.

“I have wanted to do that for _so_ long.” 

_Same here._

“So, uh, will I be able to get some onigiri before the game, or?” Udai cut in awkwardly. Keiji turned away from Osamu to glare at him. He could sense Osamu’s grin without seeing it. 

“Sorry, what can I get for ya?” Osamu snapped a near pair of gloves on.

By the time Udai had disappeared towards the stands and Osamu had cleaned up, Atsumu had already started with a killer spike serve- a strong first impression that Kageyama will most certainly pay back later on.

It flew out of bounds. 

Keiji snorted.

"Lame," Osamu rolled his eyes, "The asshat's trying to show off."

He stepped around the table as Koji, the other person manning the stall, flitted around taking stock of the ingredients. 

“Hug me,” Keiji demanded. Osamu did so with a slight chuckle after folding up his apron. 

“Nothing beats the real thing, huh?” 

Keiji hummed as they rocked in circles, the crowd going wild after Atsumu and Shouyou’s quick in the background. “When will you be coming to Tokyo?” 

“Soon, I promise, cross my heart. After all, ya still owe me that first date, yeah?” 

He grinned and reached up to pull Osamu into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus!!
> 
> "Hey, Osamu?"
> 
> He hummed, "Yes 'Ji?"
> 
> "Why do you call me 'Ji'?" The hand carding through his hair stilled for a moment and Keiji tilted his head up. 
> 
> Osamu's nose was scrunched up and he refused to look him in the eyes, a red blush spread across his cheeks. "Osamu?"
> 
> He muttered something Keiji didn't catch. He prodded his boyfriend's side.
> 
> "...Ji is the same character as Osamu."
> 
> Keiji stared at him for a moment. His heartbeat sped up and he could feel his ears burning. 
> 
> "You're such a sap," he grinned, Osamu retorted weakly but the sound was cut off by Keiji reaching up to kiss him.


End file.
